


The Witch and The Hunters

by Maisey2k10



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Family, Humour, Kind of soulmates!, Post-War, Romance, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:37:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 100
Words: 350,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21832285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maisey2k10/pseuds/Maisey2k10
Summary: Nine years after the war, Hermione's the Head of the Auror Department that specialises in dealing with Magical Creatures and fugitive Death Eaters that are loose in the Muggle World. With the fugitive Death Eaters no longer hiding in Britain, she's tracking rogue Death Eaters in the United States, which leads her to the Winchester brothers. The Witch and The Hunters are a dynamic trio that no creature, being or beast wishes to mess with, Magical or Supernatural. Rated for language, violence and sexual content! HGxDW pairing! Kind of soulmates!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 194





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own original canon characters or events, just those that I create myself. Everything belongs to J.K Rowling and the creators of Supernatural. I am not making a profit posting this fanfic. Rated for language, violence and sexual content. 
> 
> This starts were season five left off but with a few changes. Sam somehow reclaims his body and banishes Michael, Adam and Lucifer to the cage. He doesn't get trapped and he keeps his soul. Dean doesn't retire, Castiel and Bobby still survive and Ellen and Jo are alive. They are still hunting, doing everything as they normally would together. I'm also changing the timeline and ages a little. Hermione will be 26, Dean will be 28 and Sam will be 24. I know it doesn't actually work out that way, what with Dean and Hermione being born in the same year, but I wanted to make them younger instead of being 30.
> 
> Also, seeing as I am British and have no idea regarding American geography, all of my research was carried out on Google maps, just letting you know as a warning in case I get something wrong.
> 
> Just a quick note, I am a Northern Lass (for viewers that reside in England and understand what I mean) and although I try very hard to reign that side of me in, it does tend to show in my writing style and the slang, phrases and terms I use. I'm working on it. I also tend to ramble, again, I'm working on curbing the habit. 
> 
> I am aware that Harry did not keep the Elder Wand, and I am aware that Voldemort's body did not turn into ash after his death, but I've made it so for this fic. The beauty of fanfiction is that you can change and mould events and characters however you wish to, bending them to you will, which is what I've done here. If something seems to be out of place, I promise, it was my intentions to make it so.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy. This has been one of my top five favourites to write so far, maybe even top three. This is complete but with 100 chapters, it might take me a few days to post it. I'll get it done as quickly as I can for you. 
> 
> This does have some Ron bashing.
> 
> Page count: 7

Hermione ran through the dark, dense forest, skilfully leaping over fallen branches and tree roots and ducking between trees and under low hanging branches. She was in South Dakota, close to the town of Sioux Falls, as she chased after three rogue Death Eaters she'd been tracking. From what she'd learned so far, they were only low ranking members of the Psycho Squad, but they'd still hurt a lot of people and would continue to do so if she didn't stop them.

The war had been over for close to nine years and unfortunately, there were still Death Eaters on the run, some being fugitives from the time of the war and others being newly recruited in the last nine years. A lot of the Death Eaters that'd been caught were actually new recruits and when they were transferred to holding cells, they barely knew their names. Harry dealt with the Death Eaters and crime in the Wizarding World, Hermione's jurisdiction was the Muggle World; they'd gone through Auror training together but now worked in separate departments.

The Death Eaters she was tracking had killed twenty-four people in the nine months they had been on her radar, but as bad as it may sound, she'd had other cases that were of greater importance and had a higher death count, but now that she'd closed those cases, she was able to focus on the three criminals she was currently chasing. As it was, she'd only been expecting one so it had been a surprise to discover there were three of them, and whilst she wasn't comfortable with having three opponents and there only being one of her, she could honestly say she's faced worse odds and been in more dangerous situations in the past.

Hermione ducked behind a tree as a dark orange spell was sent her way, one she recognised to be a dangerous Slicing Hex that would've taken her head off if she hadn't moved in time, and she heard the 'thud' of a tree branch being severed and falling to the ground.

She peeked around the thick trunk of the tree and threw a _Stupefy_ at one of them, missing her target by millimetres, quickly followed by a _Petrificus Totalus_ to a second opponent which was blocked clumsily, the shield shattering under the force. She'd already placed Anti-apparition wards around the forest, ensuring they couldn't escape by magical means and she knew the Death Eaters were heading out of the forest, ready to apparate away from her. She darted out from behind the tree when she heard their footsteps crunching against the dry leaves and snapping twigs beneath their weight, and she chased after them, picking up her pace despite the painful stitch that was beginning to make an appearance in her side, and it being difficult to chase down three assailants by herself.

She threw up a shield, blocking a nasty curse that would've easily caused her lungs to fill with blood if it hit its target. Narrowing her eyes, she allowed the shield to drop and she threw an _Impedimenta_ followed by an _Incarcerous_ at the one responsible and the robed figure ducked behind a tree to avoid them both, not being able to get a shield up fast enough.

The edge of the forest appeared a lot quicker than Hermione realised, the three figures turned to look at her with their black robes tied and hoods up, skull masks covering their faces, they turned on their heels and apparated with sharp 'cracks'.

"Shite!" Hermione cursed, skidding to a stop and catching herself against a tree to stop herself from falling to the ground.

She pulled herself upright and quickly went about casting tracking spells; she knew she could only go after one of the three as they likely would've split up. She locked her wand onto the coordinates of the shortest distance from her and she spun on her heel.

She landed in the middle of what looked to be a salvage yard. Old and totalled cars piled high on top of each other, the ground dry and dusty, the sun beamed down hot on her back and she had to squint against the sunlight. She sighed. There were too many places her target could hide; she would have to be on her guard. With her wand gripped tightly in her hand and her white Auror robes fastened securely around her, her hood up covering her face and her trusty beaded bag safely tucked away in her robe pocket, she slowly walked through the aisles of cars, her eyes searching her surroundings carefully and checking every direction.

After twenty minutes of walking through the maze without finding her suspect, she became annoyed. She lifted her wand, sat it gently against her palm and whispered,

" _Point me_."

Her wand lifted off her palm and hovered in the air as it spun uncontrollably until it came to a sudden stop, pointing north. She cautiously followed the directions of her wand until she could either go left or right and the wand pointed left. Hermione turned left and she continued walking until she saw a house in the distance, she squinted, being sure that she could see several figures.

One wearing black robes and the other two were wearing...

"Shit! Muggles!"

~000~000~000~

Dean Winchester was a satisfied man; he and his brother had saved the world from Lucifer, Sam had expelled Lucifer from his body and they'd trapped him in the cage along with their resurrected half-brother, Adam, and the angel, Michael, that had possessed his body. Castiel was alive and so was Bobby, and he didn't know how they'd survived, but they had.

Life was back to normal; driving his baby, travelling, hunting monsters, exorcising demons and eating pie. God, he loved pie!

After working a few cases in which they'd killed a werewolf, a wendigo and a succubus, they decided it was time to visit Bobby for a little respite and possibly some help. He and Sam had picked up a trail and were working on a case and they were struggling to identify the culprit and needed to do some research and Bobby had the best resources available to any Hunter. Well, Sam needed to do some research as it was his forte, Dean preferred the investigating side of the job, and whilst Sam was busy, he'd happily occupy himself with eating pie.

Bobby had gone for supplies leaving the two brothers on their own at the salvage yard. Sam was sat outside on the steps of the porch trying to do find the answers to their problem and Dean was outside, too, annoying his younger brother as usual. He was currently serenading Sam with his radio turned up full blast and singing along to his favourite rock songs, just waiting for Sam to snap.

"Dean?" Sam said sighing, not looking up from the book perched on his lap as he turned another page.

Dean grinned in response and proceeded to sing louder, his words all but being shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Dean?" Sam spoke louder, trying to be heard over the loud, distracting music.

He looked up and away from his book to see Dean holding a hand up to his ear, motioning that he couldn't hear him with the other hand.

"DEAN!" Sam finally snapped, an annoyed look on his face.

Dean burst into laughter and reached into the car, finally turning off the radio. "I wondered how long it'd take you to lose your rag," he smirked, leaning back against the car and crossing his arms over his chest while Sam sighed and turned his eyes back to his book. "Found anything useful, Sammy?"

"No, it doesn't help when you're being a bitch," Sam said with a scowl.

"Jerk!" he replied.

Sam shook his head and lifted his eyes to his brother, catching sight of something in the distance. His eyes widened and he stood up, the book falling from his lap and dropping to the ground with a dull 'thud'. Dean turned twisted his body to look behind him in confusion before his own eyes widened when he saw what had caught Sam's attention.

There was a figure wearing a scary as hell skull mask, what looked to be black graduation robes and the hook pulled up, and they were gripping a strange wooden stick in their hand.

"Hey, Pal, Halloween's not for another seven months!" Dean called.

"Dean," Sam hissed in warning, but his eyes didn't move from being locked on the strangely dressed figure.

The figure in question seemed to turn their attention to them after Dean's words, and neither of them liked the way a wave of danger seemed to settled over them when he started advancing on them, a slight limp in his steps as if he were injured. Dean and Sam both moved far away from the Impala, stepping to the side and moving closer to the house and they pulled their handguns from the waistband of their jeans, training them on the advancing figure with a confidence and aim that could only come from years of practice.

"If you don't stop I'll shoot you," Dean warned; his voice void of any emotion and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

The figure gave a deranged laugh that sent shivers down their spines, and with him being too close for comfort and looking as though he didn't plan to stop, Dean was about to pull the trigger when something stopped him. A shout.

Dean and Sam both looked at a spot over the strange figure's shoulder as he did the same, their eyes locking onto a second figure in the distance, this one wearing white graduation robes with the hood pulled up and gripping a wooden stick in their hand. Judging by the height and frame, they'd guessed the one wearing black robes to be a man, whilst they knew the one wearing white was female by the voice.

"Leave them alone; they're under my protection," the woman called.

Dean wanted to snort at the statement but something held him back.

~000~000~000~

Hermione plucked her wand from the air and held it tightly as she ran forward, shouting,

"Hey!" She yelled, gaining the attention of the Death Eater as well as the two muggles. "Leave them alone; they're under my protection!"

She was close enough that she could see the handguns held by both muggles and she knew that she had to be very careful.

"Mudblood," he spat, his smirk hidden behind his mask when she flinched. "So glad you could join the party."

"Psychotic Bastard," she replied coldly. "Unfortunately for you, the party's over."

"And what is a weak Mudblood like you going to do?" He taunted with a laugh.

"I'm so weak that I helped to kill Voldemort?" she asked. The laughter stopped and she prepared herself for what was to come, she could feel the hatred he had for her and knew it wasn't going to be pleasant. "If I were you, I'd run and get out of the way," she said to the muggles, but they couldn't see her face for her hood being pulled up and hiding her features. They looked at her dumbly, blinking in surprise and confusion. "You'll get caught in the crossfire, I can't protect you and apprehend him, so you better..." She didn't get to finish her sentence as a very recognisable beam of yellow light was thrown at her, the Cruciatus Curse.

She dropped to the ground onto her stomach and the Unforgivable went flying over her head, slamming into a tree in the distance.

" _Stupefy_ ," she called, the spell missing when the Death Eater moved out of the way and she quickly climbed to her feet.

" _Sectumsempra_ ," he snarled, but she was able to jump off to the side just in time and the nasty curse missed.

"You Death Eaters and your spells, all so predictable," Hermione taunted. " _Rictumsempra_ ," she called.

He blocked. "Really? A Tickling Jinx? How did you survive so long? You're weak, pathetic." He sneered, but when he looked up, Hermione wasn't there; she was behind him and running towards the muggles so she could get them to safety.

" _Sanguinem_ ," the Death Eater called.

Hermione turned, her eyes narrowing on the powerful dark curse that caused blood to expel from every orifice if it hit its target and she didn't wish to experience the effects of such a curse firsthand.

" _Protego_ ," she called, casting a blue shield in front of herself.

The shield was strong enough that it held but the spell collided with her shield and knocked her off her feet, sending her flying backwards. The two muggles dropped their arms and stepped aside, Hermione passing through the gap between them and she slammed against the railing on the porch of the house, the wood splintering and littering the floor. She crashed into the wall of the house before falling forward, landing on the ground on her stomach and with a loud 'thump' and she groaned which was followed by a wince of pain.

"Son of a..." She was cut off when another _Sectumsempra_ was sent her way, narrowly missing her head.

She narrowed her eyes and shakily got to her feet, using part of the still-standing porch railing to pull herself up and she leaned against a support beam, already being able to feel bruises forming on her back from the impact of hitting the railing.

" _Reducto_ ," she yelled, pushing herself away from the beam and standing tall. " _Flipendo_ , _Impedimenta_ ," she fired off.

He didn't have time to block all three spells and the _Impedimenta_ caught him in the chest. He flew backwards, hitting against the side of a totalled car, the vehicle making a noise of displeasure and rattling due to the impact.

"Not so nice, is it?" Hermione muttered.

She pressed a hand to the back of her head, pulling it away and glad to see there was no blood before she shook her head and descended the porch steps, moving closer to him. When she was happy with her closeness but also the distance still between them, she was stood in the gap left by the gawking, surprised muggles, both of them stood several feet away and on either side of her.

" _Avada Kedavra_ ," the Death Eater sneered as he climbed to his feet.

"Shite! Duck!" Hermione shouted.

She dropped to the floor and, thankfully, the muggles listened to her as the spell ricocheted off a broken mirror, once more going over their heads and slamming into another totalled car. She turned to look at the car, smoke was pouring from it as a hole was burned into the car door and the windows shattered, glass covering the ground.

"Alright," Hermione huffed. "Now, I'm mad."

Without warning, she pushed herself up off the ground and she fired off five spells so quick, it took the Death Eater by surprise. He was able to block the first three, but not the last two, the third spell making him stumble backwards, the fourth shattering his shield entirely and the fifth hit its target.

" _Confringo_ ," she muttered, setting the tail of his robes on fire and when he turned his attention to putting out the flames, she called out, " _Petrificus Totalus_."

The Death Eater suddenly froze, his arms locking against his sides and his legs straightening as he fell to the ground, face planting the floor. She would've felt sorry for him if he hadn't thrown _two_ Unforgivables at her that day; understandably, she wasn't fond of them. She waved her wand and the beam of light hit the Death Eater and the flames were extinguished.

Being grateful that it was now over, she let out a sigh of relief which she regretted as it was soon followed by a wince of pain, bringing her hand up to rub at her aching chest where she'd landed on a bit of broken wood, and honestly, it hurt like hell. She knew she'd have bruises and only hoped she hadn't broken anything in the process.

Still, with her hand rubbing at her aching chest, she turned on her heel to face the staring muggles. They'd both moved so they were now standing beside each other, their faces held confusion and surprise and their eyes watched her cautiously, their handguns still held tightly in their grip and down by their sides.

"Cas? Cas!" One of the muggles shouted and she felt herself panic.

"I'm sorry about this, you won't remember what happened; you'll have a few blank spots," she said.

She lifted her wand but before she could mutter the Memory Removal Charm, her hand was pressed to her stomach and blood was soaking through her white robes. She looked down to her stomach with wide eyes, and then she fell to the floor unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

"Dean!" Sam yelled before slipping his handgun back into the waistband of his jeans and he ran over to the woman bleeding out on the floor.

"What? I panicked!" He yelled back, a slightly hysterical tone to his voice, which would've made Sam laugh if it weren't for the circumstances that were surrounding them.

"You idiot!" Sam snapped.

"Don't yell at me!" Dean replied, the hysteria in his voice rising a little more as he gripped the gun in his hand tightly.

Sam lifted the woman's hood back from her face and untied her robes to see where the blood was coming from.

"Whoa! She's hot" Dean muttered, before shaking his head, reminding himself that he shouldn't be making that observation about someone he'd just shot, especially after what he'd just witnessed. But he was still a man and he could appreciate the beauty of a woman.

Hermione had grown over the years. Her once frizzy hair fell in soft ringlets to the middle of her back; her ivory skin was soft and unblemished except for her arm and torso, and everything else that she glamoured. Her long, dark lashes touched her high cheekbones and she had freckles on the bridge of her small button nose and a heart-shaped face. She was approximately five-foot-six and wore converse, blue skinny jeans and a short-sleeved white t-shirt. Sam lifted her eyelids to see the pupils of her soft and large chocolate brown eyes dilated.

"Why'd you shoot her? She likely just saved our lives."

"She's obviously a witch, what with all that shit," he gestured around him madly. "Only dark magic could do that."

"Dean?"

They both looked up to see Castiel walking towards them with his usual emotionless expression and the light brown trench coat he seemed to be so fond of, that they hadn't actually seen him without it.

"A bit late now, I got the witch," Dean replied.

Castiel reached them and looked down at the woman, his eyes widening and he dropped to the ground on his knees beside her. It was the most emotion he had ever shown and it surprised them.

"Hermione?" He said quietly, a deep frown pulling at his forehead as his eyes searched her face.

"You know her?" Sam said stunned and Dean stared, unable to form a response to Castiel's reaction.

Castiel carefully lifted the woman into his arms –which more than surprised them both- and he rose to his feet and made his way towards Bobby's house, stepping through the door and heading straight to the kitchen where he placed the woman on the kitchen table and retrieved a pillow to cushion her head.

"She's a witch, Cas, just let her die," Dean said after having followed after him.

"She's under my protection," the angel replied.

"Are you crazy?" Dean struggled to contain his outburst.

"No," he frowned.

"Let her die."

"She's under my protection," he repeated firmly before he lifted his hand to heal the woman when Bobby walked into the kitchen, carrying two brown paper bags filled with groceries and a confused expression held on his face.

"Why is there an unconscious man wearing a skull mask outside? And why the hell is my railing smashed up and blood covering the ground?"

"I shot a witch," Dean shrugged his shoulders as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Bobby promptly dropped the bags to the floor, not caring for the contents, and he picked up the rifle resting against the door frame, moving forward when he finally noticed the woman laid out on his kitchen table and bleeding out everywhere.

"She's under my protection," Castiel repeated.

"She's a witch!" Dean finally snapped.

Sam had been silent throughout the chaos. Why was Castiel protecting her?

"She's under my protection."

"Stop saying that!" Dean yelled.

"What's that in her hand?" Bobby asked, catching a glimpse of the wooden stick that was still held tightly in her grip, despite her being unconscious.

"A wooden stick, she was using magic through it. It was strange," Sam explained with a slight frown.

"BALLS!" Bobby cursed.

Much to the brothers' utter shock, Bobby immediately dropped his rifle to the floor and rushed over to the woman's side. There was something about the woman, a familiar feeling; she looked familiar to him, too, but her hair was covering her face so he couldn't see her features clearly enough to identify her.

"You shot a wand-waving witch?" Bobby asked, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"She's a witch!"

"She's a good witch."

"There's no such thing," Dean scoffed.

"She didn't sell her soul or use human sacrifice to get her magic, she was _born_ with it," Bobby said.

"Impossible," he scoffed once more.

"Are you calling me a liar? Stupid?"

Dean immediately realised his mistake and his body tensed. "No," he said quietly, averting his gaze from the older man that was like a second father to him.

"She was born with her magic; true witches and wizards have magic in the blood and DNA. There is a whole community of them hidden from us, they were almost wiped out centuries ago thanks to the Witch Trials, they went into hiding and they keep their magic hidden from us, from non-magicals. They live their own lives away from us in peace."

Sam and Dean were slowly taking in his words with disbelief and confusion, feeling as though everything they'd been taught since they were children was a lie.

Bobby turned to Castiel and asked, "She's under your protection?" Castiel nodded. "Are you going to heal her?"

"Yes, but you may want to stand back, she's very temperamental," Castiel replied.

"What's her name?"

"Hermione Granger."

"BALLS!" Bobby cursed once more, his voice rising and a slight growl wrapping around the curse word. Both Dean and Sam jumped, having been lost in thought and not expecting his outburst. "You didn't just shoot a witch, you shot Hermione Granger, Idjits!" He slapped Dean on the back of the head, followed by Sam who winced.

"What's so special about her?" Dean grumbled as he watched as Castiel pressed two fingers against her forehead, a slight golden glow bathing the skin underneath his touch.

"She's the most famous witch in the world. She's a war heroine; she helped save the world when she was eighteen." They both raised their eyebrows. "She's now considered to be one of the most powerful and formidable witches to have existed. You better hope that the magical communities of Europe don't find out what happened. I won't be saving your stupid asses from them when they come looking for revenge."

Dean rolled his eyes at Bobby's dramatics and lounged against the countertop as the woman groaned as she woke from her unconscious state. Castiel pulled his hand away from her and her eyes slowly fluttered open, taking in her surroundings in confusion before pushing herself up into a slight reclining-sitting position, supporting herself with her hands.

"What happened?" She asked, blinking several times to properly clear her vision and then shaking her head, her wild curls moving out of the way of her face and falling down her back.

"You were shot by Dean."

"Thanks, Cas, drop me in it with the witch," Dean snorted.

Her attention snapped to him and he was surprised at the softness of her large, chocolate brown eyes.

He was taken aback when she turned around and threw herself into Castiel's arms, even more so when Castiel hugged her back and the closest thing he had ever seen to a smile grace the emotionless Angel's face. And he wasn't the only one; Bobby and Sam watched with disbelief, too.

~000~000~000~

Hermione looked at the three men in front of her. One was obviously the eldest of the group, maybe his forties or fifties. He wore jeans, brown hiking boots, a plaid shirt and a brown cap. He had facial hair that was cut short and brown but greying, matching his short hair. He had brown eyes, a chubby frame and was around five-foot-nine in height. He looked familiar to her but she couldn't remember why.

The second man was quite handsome. He was quite tall at six-foot-four; he had hazel eyes and wavy brown hair that fell to his chin with several strands falling into his eyes. He had a strong jawline and bulging muscles which she could easily see beneath his clothing of a black buttoned-down shirt, blue jeans and a pair of white running shoes.

The last man Hermione thought was the most handsome with his light brown hair that was spiked up at the front, green eyes with flecks of brown in them and he had to be at least six-foot tall. He had chiselled features and he wore blue jeans, brown-black boots and a black t-shirt that fitted to his muscled frame. He was watching her curiously, suspiciously.

She then turned around to look behind her after hearing breathing and the rustle of clothing from movement.

"Castiel!" Hermione cried in excitement and she flung herself into his arms, beaming when she felt him hug her back.

"You know him?"The tallest of the men asked and she pulled away from the Angel and smiled widely, showing her perfectly white and straight teeth.

"He's my Angel," she said in reply. The handsome man snorted. "What?" She frowned in confusion.

"'He's my Angel?'" He repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, he _is_ my Angel," she confirmed. "I've known him since I was eleven-years-old; he protects me. Speaking off..." Hermione twisted her body before lifting her arm and punching Castiel in the arm.

"That didn't hurt," he said with a straight face.

"I know it didn't, but it made me feel better," she replied, hearing snorts of amusement. "I haven't seen you in two bloody years! I called but you never came. What if I was on my death bed?"

"But you weren't."

"And if I was?"

"But you weren't," he repeated.

Hermione tutted. "Like a broken record, where's all my hard work disappeared to?"

"I died,"

"YOU DID WHAT!" She shrieked.

She gripped her wand tightly and jumped down off the table, where she put her hands on her hips, a foot tapping away against the floor and she glared at him furiously.

"I died,"

"And, pray tell, why did you die?"

"We stopped Lucifer from taking over the world." He saw her lift her wand as her glare hardened and her features set in anger and promises of pain. "It won't hurt me."

"No, but it'll make me feel better. _Avis, Oppungo_ ," she muttered.

They watched mesmerised as a flock of yellow canaries shot out of the tip of her wand, dived down towards Castiel and started to attack him, leaving him covered in feathers, peck marks and bird waste. Dean couldn't stop himself from laughing even if he tried; it was the funniest thing he'd seen in a long time. Suddenly, the birds turned towards him and his laughter was cut off as he instead yelled profanities. The birds soon disappeared and Bobby and Sam were sniggering, seeing Dean covered in peck marks, his hair being a mess and being covered in bird waste and feathers.

"What the hell was that for?" He glared at Hermione.

"For shooting me when I saved your life," she replied, not caring for his deathly glare in the slightest.

His glare quickly disappeared and he frowned slightly. "Fine, you can have that one," he conceded.

"Like you have a choice," she snorted.

She then waved her wand in his direction, he flinched and felt his hand automatically reaching for his gun, but he opened his eyes when he heard snorts of amusement, noticing that Castiel was now clean and when he looked down at himself, so was he.

"It was just a Cleaning Charm," Hermione said, a smirk pulling at her mouth when he muttered grumbled insults under his breath. "So, I guess introductions are in order. I'm Hermione Granger," she said, turning to her eyes to look at the man in the cap thoughtfully before they widened when she finally realised why she knew him. "Wait a minute, Bobby?" She said excitedly and with a smile on her face.

"I thought you would've forgotten me," he chuckled and she quickly hugged him, causing Sam and Dean to share looks of disbelief. They knew each other? Friendly enough to exchange a hug? Especially with Bobby's less than affectionate personality?

"I could never forget you, Bobby, after all, you helped me out with that nest of vampires a while back. Without your help I would've ended up as vamp food, though, in hindsight, I probably shouldn't have said 'bite me' to a vampire. You're a lifesaver," she grinned at him as she pulled away.

"Thanks, Missy," he muttered in embarrassment and she laughed at him. A pure and joyful sound. "This is Dean and Sam Winchester," he introduced, pointing to each of them in turn.

"Well, that changes things, I don't actually don't mind that you shot me," Hermione said. "Just wait until my Deputy hears I got shot by Dean Winchester, he's going to be _so_ jealous," she said amused.

"Wait, you know us?" Dean said surprised.

"Yes, you're famous in my world. We keep tabs on you Hunters; we have to make sure that we pick up anything you miss and that you don't harm a witch or wizard such as myself," she explained. "You guys are quite good, so we don't really check up on you as much as we do the others." Dean unknowingly stood taller and his chest puffed out in pride and she snorted at him. "So, why did you shoot me?"

"You were a witch and pointing a stick in my face, which I'd seen you perform magic with," he said, looking the perfect picture of ease as he leaned against the countertop with his arms folded over his chest, but Hermione could see the wariness and dislike in his eyes, though he was hiding it well.

"The first words you heard me speak were I believe, 'leave them alone, they're under my protection.' You thought I was going to harm you after I saved your life? I was going to wipe your memories; I thought you were regular muggles."

"Muggles?" The man she now knew as Sam asked.

"Non-magical people," she answered and he nodded in understanding.

"What's the unconscious _thing_ outside?" Bobby questioned with a raised eyebrow, gesturing towards the door with a jab of his thumb.

"Bollocks!" She cursed, having forgotten about the Death Eater. She rushed out of the room, straight through the open front door and outside with the others following after her in intrigue and confusion.

Luckily, she arrived in time as the Death Eater was starting to rouse when she reached him, so she quickly hit him with another _Petrificus Totalus_ followed by an _Incarcerous_ for good measure, before turning to look behind her and seeing them watching her carefully.

"I reached him just in time, I've been tracking him and it would've been a right pain in the arse if he escaped. Do you happen to have a fireplace?"

The three Hunters stared at her whilst Castiel just looked bored, as usual.

"Err, yeah, it doesn't work though," Bobby answered, reaching up and scratching at his chin.

"That's fine," she smiled.

They led her inside and to the fireplace in the living room, where she stood in front of it, waving her wand and muttering under her breath for almost fifteen minutes before she stepped back and nodded to herself.

"That should do it," she said to herself before putting her hand into her pocket and pulling out her beaded bag which she slipped her hand into it.

"Fuck!" Dean yelled in shock when her arm up to her shoulder disappeared, and she pulled back with a little pouch grasped in her hand. With a flick of her wand, she lit the fireplace and they jumped in surprise as the flames danced and swayed.

"I'll be right back," she said, absentmindedly glamouring her robes to hide the bloodstains, not wishing to worry people or start any arguments when there was nothing wrong with her and she'd been healed.

They called after her as she stepped into the flames, said something under her breath and then disappeared from view, the flames dying down.

"What was that? Where's she gone?" Sam asked, his eyes searching his surroundings, not believing that she had actually just stepped into _fire_ and disappeared from view.

"London," Castiel replied.

"London?" Dean raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"She's gone to London," he repeated.

Five minutes later the flames once more flared up and Hermione reappeared, stepping out of the fireplace uninjured and she brushed the soot off her robes.

"What was that? Why aren't you burnt?" Sam asked, his eyes sweeping her frame for injuries.

"Floo travel, kind of like teleportation," she shrugged, and then two men stepped out, one after the other.

One had dark skin and eyes, a bald head and he wore burgundy robes and was six-foot tall. The second was smaller, around five-foot-nine, had glasses which hid bright green eyes, black messy hair, a strangely shaped scar on his forehead and he wore grey robes, much like Hermione's.

"This is Kingsley Shacklebolt, he is the Minister of Magic," Hermione introduced, but when they looked confused she further explained, "He's the magical equivalent to the President." They greeted him with nods of the head. "And this is my best friend and little brother, Harry Potter."

"I never thought I'd meet Harry Potter," Bobby spoke with an awe-like look on his face and the brothers looked at him as if he'd just divulged he was secretly a succubus that had just given birth to a werewolf.

"Err, hi," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Bobby, yeah? Hermione's told me a lot about you, you must be the Winchesters," he said and the brothers nodded in confirmation

"Harry's the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement and Auror Department," Hermione beamed proudly. "Youngest in history."

"The what?" Sam asked confused.

"Aurors are effectively magical policemen, but the MLE Department covers six sub-divisions, making him the big boss," she explained.

"Yeah, well, Hermione's the Head of the MLE Department division for the Muggle World, youngest in history," Harry replied.

She rolled her eyes. "My department was created less than a decade ago."

"Exactly, they _created_ an entire department just for _you_ to head up," he argued.

She changed the subject. "Right then, we've got one low-level Death Eater apprehended, the other two managed to getaway. I'm going to have to track them now," she huffed in annoyance.

"One's still a good catch," Harry assured her, ruffling her hair as he walked past her. She scowled at him and ran past him, tugging on his ear as she did so. "Oi!" He called as he chased after her.

"Honestly, how they won us the war I'll never know," Kingsley laughed and shook his head before following the two department heads out of the house.

"War?" Sam and Dean echoed with frowns, turning to look at Bobby questioningly.

"War," Bobby nodded.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 10

The Winchesters and Bobby reached them just as they began their conversation, being close enough to hear them but giving them their space and a sense of privacy.

“Do we know his identity?” Harry asked as he flicked his wand at the Death Eater, adding more restriction in case the Stunners wore off.

They affected people differently based on that individual’s physical strength, magical core strength and mental state, therefore you could never truly be certain of how long the individual would be restrained for and so it was always better to be safe.

“I believe it’s Henry Patterson, a low-level Death Eater. He wasn’t on our radar because we didn’t initially know about him. Intel I’ve gathered suggests he’s a new recruit for the resistance, he’s too young to have been a Death Eater in the war, although saying that, Draco...”

“The Bouncing Ferret,” Harry supplied.

She slapped him on the back of the head and he winced. “I thought we stopped with the petty name-calling...”

“He called me Potty-head last week,” he argued. 

“When I see him I will be having words with him, too.”

They all saw the magical President wince before shaking his head in amusement and the two brothers shared a curious glance at his reaction to the witch’s words. 

“Draco saved our lives, he defected to our side and that was nine years ago, get over it. Life is too short to hold grudges, you should know that better than anyone, you’ve died. _Twice_.”

The Hunters were surprised by the news and they couldn’t hide it, looking to each other in disbelief and then back to the magical folk, not wanting to miss anything because they hadn’t been paying attention.

“Yeah, well, you’ve died _four_ times,” Harry responded.

“And Death won’t let me forget it, honestly,” she huffed, “He needs to get over his obsession with me.”

“He likely will when you stay dead,” he said amused.

“You’re one to talk, Mister The-Boy-Who-Just-Won’t-Die.”

“Quoting Malfoy now?”

She sniffed and stuck her nose in the air, much to the amusement of Harry. “Anyway, my point is he’s too young to have been a Death Eater during the war, but given that Draco was forced into it when he was sixteen, it is possible.”

“What’s his blood status, do we know?”

“I believe he’s a Half-blood, Kings,” she responded. “I have no idea why a bloody Half-blood would want to exterminate the world of all Muggles and Muggleborns. Some Purebloods are still only wanting a Pureblood Utopia, Half-bloods would be made slaves, why he would want to be a part of that is beyond me,” she shook her head. “The fact that he’s a Half-blood has me believe they’re getting desperate. Too many Pureblood families have seen the error of their ways and those that haven’t now understand that they’ll never have the Pureblood only world they wish for, so they keep their views quiet and get on with their lives. If they’re recruiting Half-bloods, they may become more reckless than they already are,” Hermione explained.

“Why?”

She looked behind her to see that it was Bobby that had asked, a curious look held on his face.

“They want to prove themselves, they want to prove their hatred for everything but Purebloods and for that they will do anything, but, the Purebloods won’t trust them no matter what they do, and for us, that’s a good thing. If we can capture a Pureblood, there’s a chance I can get them to give their headquarters up, or at the very least, the names of their Half-blood recruits. In retaliation, the Half-bloods may give up the Purebloods. We can get them to flip on the other, which will help to bring down their entire operation.”

“GRANGER!”

Harry muttered under his breath and Kingsley chuckled.

“OUT HERE DRACO!” She called back.

They all turned their heads to see a tall man with striking blonde hair gelled back, ice-blue eyes and pointed features, also wearing white robes, making their way over to them.

“Sorry I’m late, I had a situation to take care of,” he said. “Minister,” he nodded in greeting, “Scar-head,” he greeted. “Ow! What the bloody hell was that for?” He asked, glaring at Hermione and rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head where she’d hit him.

“What did I say about petty name-calling?” He scowled at her and crossed his arms childishly. “Honestly, you are twenty-five years old, grow the hell up, we are not in school anymore, the war is over...”

“Yes, we know the speech, we do hear it once a week, after all, Granger,” he drawled.

“Well bloody well listen to me and I won’t keep repeating myself,” she huffed. She heard sniggers and they all turned to see the Winchesters and Bobby not bothering to hide their amusement. “Oh, sorry, Draco, this is Bobby Singer and Dean and Sam Winchester,” Hermione introduced. “Guys, this is Draco Malfoy, my Deputy.” They nodded to each other. “Hey, Draco, guess what?”

“I don’t know but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be getting cheeky, you’re forgetting that Luna’s my best friend,” she smirked.

“Threatening me with my wife now? Very Slytherin of you,” he smirked back.

She gasped in outrage. “I am a Gryffindor through and through, I would never desert the den for the snake pit.”

“Tell that to Theo and Blaise,” he deadpanned. She scowled at his smug expression.

“Yeah, didn’t you also date Adrian Pucey and Terence Higgs?” Harry spoke up. “Seems you have quite the thing for Slytherins.”

Draco smirked at her and she huffed in annoyance. “The Lioness has spent a lot of time in the snake pit, haven’t you?”

“Oh, now you two get along? Just perfect. And I’ll have you know, I didn’t sleep with all of them, I’m not a bloody tart.”

Kingsley chuckled. “Children,” he scolded amused.

“Sorry,” they all muttered, looking chastised.

“As I was going to say, I got shot today.”

“And who the bloody hell shot you?” He demanded, looking far more protective than he had been previously when teasing her.

“Dean Winchester,” she grinned.

“Oh for Merlin’s Sake,” he grumbled, before digging into his pocket and pulling out a pouch and handing it to her.

“Thank you,” she said smugly.

“Why would you make a bet with ‘Mione, that’s just stupid?” Harry laughed.

“You’re stupid,” he fired back childishly. Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes.

“You made a bet?”

She looked at Sam since he had asked the question. “Yes, we knew about you and since we’re technically in the same field of work, there’s always been a possibility that I would run into you. Draco and I had a bet about whether or not I would get shot by one of you. He didn’t think you’d have the balls to shoot me, I did and you did and so I won the bet.” They stared at her as she turned back to the three wizards. “Right, I think everything here has been taken care of, you boys transport Patterson to a holding cell, pending trial. I’ll have my report sent to the office no later than tomorrow.”

“You’re not coming back to London for the trial?” Draco asked confused.

“No, we originally thought it was only one Death Eater, it turns out it was three. They split up during the chase and I could only follow one, I have to track down the other two but I’ll let you know when I have something.”

“Alright, Granger, be careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

“Tell that to Death, the poor man’s got his work cut out for him with you,” he responded and she scowled at him.

“I’ll see you later, ‘Mione,” Harry said, hugging her.

“You will, now get home to that wife and those children of yours.” He pulled back from her. “You as well, Draco, you shouldn’t leave Luna alone for too long, she’s got two months left and her magic’s going haywire.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “I think I’ll keep my distance until the birth, she’s even got the house-elves on edge,” he said and she laughed at him before quickly hugging him.

“Kings,” she tilted her head.

He smiled and then they all turned to leave and since Patterson had woken from the Stunners, Draco helped Harry to transport and contain the struggling Death Eater over to the house, into the fireplace and through the floo network back to London.

“Right then,” she spoke, clapping her hands together before noticing the broken railing on the porch and with a flick of her wand it was fixed and they stared, stunned. “Sorry about that, now, I better go, I have two Death Eaters to track.”

She turned on her heel and started walking away, off into the distance.

“Hey, Witch!”

“The name’s Hermione!” She called back, turning to look over her shoulder.

“Whatever, you’re not going anywhere until we have answers.” It was Dean that had spoken and he had his arms crossed, his stance strong with his legs shoulder-width apart.

“I have a job to do.”

“It can wait,”

She sighed. “Fine, but if any more muggles are murdered then it’s your fault that innocent lives were taken.”

She walked past him and back into the house and they all followed after her silently.

~000~000~000~

Hermione sat at the kitchen table, leaning back into the chair and with her arms crossed over her chest. Sam and Dean were sat opposite her whilst Bobby sat at the head of the table. Sam looked at her intrigued, Bobby looked relaxed with a beer in his hand and Dean was sat back against the chair and swigging from his beer, his eyes never leaving her.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for Merlin’s Sake, the silent treatment? Really? It’s not like I hurt anyone, hell, I bloody well saved your life, and you’re welcome by the way. Half of the magic Patterson was using would’ve killed you, so let’s get this over with, what do you want to know?” Dean continued to stare at her in silence. “Seriously, I’m considering jinxing you; let’s see how distrustful you are when I turn you into a walking, talking jelly, when I cast the Jelly-Legs Jinx on you.”

Sam snorted at her and her eyes cut away from the green eyes to the hazel ones. “We’ve heard you mention a war several times and Bobby said that you saved the world when you were eighteen,” Sam spoke and she tilted her head in confirmation. “What war? How did we not know of a war?”

“I’m not a dark witch, I would die before I ever resort to using dark magic,” she told him honestly. “Harry, Ronald and I have a pact, if one of us ever casts a dark spell, we would throw that person in Azkaban and throw away the key. If one of us were to ever allow dark magic to overtake us, we made a promise that we would kill that person.” They stared in shock at her admission. “I’ve seen what dark magic can do; I’ve been on the receiving end of it more times than I can count. I’ve been tortured, I’ve seen people die, I’ve fought in countless battles, I’ve been on the run, I’ve destroyed pieces of a mad man’s soul, I’ve witnessed an eleven-year-old boy drowning in his own blood, I’ve witnessed friends and classmates being torn apart by werewolves and vampires, I despise dark magic.”

Horrified. That was the way they were looking at her, horrified, even Dean had a faraway look in his eyes.

“So, this war?” Sam asked after clearing his throat.

“Okay, I know that you deal with dark witches. Muggles that sell their souls to demons and through human sacrifice, what you have to understand is these are not actual witches, they are copies; their magic comes from hell itself. I am a true witch, I am born with magic in my blood, I have magic flowing through every part of me; it’s what keeps me alive, keeps me functioning. The magic in the air, in the earth, the magic of friendship and love, of family and self-sacrifice, that’s the kind of magic that I have. There are thousands of us, witches and wizards, but we have to remain hidden from muggles.”

“In 1689, the Statute of Secrecy was instituted and in 1692 it was put into effect. All traces of trueborn witches and wizards were wiped from the world and we went into hiding. We have our own cities, towns and villages, we have our own government and legislations, our own businesses, transport, music, sports, banks, hospitals and schools. Everything you have, we have, too. You just aren’t allowed to see us; it’s illegal to reveal magic to a muggle unless you are married to one, they are your parents or siblings, or, they are already aware, such as yourselves.” They looked amazed at her explanation, Sam sitting further forward and Bobby sitting straighter. “Now, as for this war, it’s best for me to explain why a war was started in the first place. In the Wizarding World, there are four blood-statuses, these are Squibs, Muggleborns, Half-Bloods and Purebloods. Squibs are those that are born to two magical parents but they don’t possess magic themselves, their magic is so weak they are unable to use it, therefore, most Squibs live in the Muggle World, as muggles. Next, we have Muggleborns which are witches and wizards that are born from two non-magical parents. They possess magic, but the parents don’t. That’s me, I’m a Muggleborn, my mother and father were both muggles. With me so far?” She asked them.

They nodded in confirmation, so she continued.

“Next we have Half-bloods. Half-bloods are born from one magical parent and one muggle parent, or, two magical parents that aren’t both Purebloods. Purebloods are witches and wizards that don’t have any muggle lineage and most of them pride themselves on that fact. They have generations of only magic users that can be traced back thousands of years, the only way to stay a Pureblood, is to marry a Pureblood and have Pureblood children. This was done through arranged marriages, even before most Pureblood children reached the age of five. Can you see the problem with this?” She asked them.

“Inbreeding,” Sam said thoughtfully.

“Exactly, inbreeding. Now, Harry, he’s a Half-Blood, his mother was a Muggleborn like me, Lily Evans, his father a Pureblood, James Potter. Kingsley’s a Pureblood, so is Draco. Draco’s the heir to the most powerful and wealthy Pureblood family in Wizarding Europe. Most Purebloods believed that anything less than Pureblood was not worthy of magic simply because they have muggle lineage, they hated Muggleborns, Squibs and Muggles, they treated us like vermin. Half-bloods were tolerated since they had some magic in their lineage. Not all Pureblood families believed this though. This is why a war was started.”

“During the seventies through to the early eighties, there was this dark wizard, his name was Tom Riddle, he called himself Lord Voldemort. He believed exactly what I just explained. He gathered followers, Purebloods, and his goal was to rule the world with only Purebloods surviving and Half-bloods serving under them as slaves, everyone else was to be exterminated. In retaliation a secret organisation was formed, The Order of the Phoenix, they were witches and wizards that dedicated themselves to fighting Voldemort and his followers and protecting the innocent. There was a prophecy made, that a child would be the downfall of the darkest wizard the world had ever seen. This child was Harry James Potter, my best friend.”

They had all sat forward, giving her their complete attention. Even Bobby, who knew the summarised version, but he had never heard a true full account from someone who had been an integral part of ending the war.”

“The Potters were the third most wealthy and powerful Pureblood family in Wizarding Europe, when Harry was born they were sent into hiding. There is a branch of magic that allows us to hide a property from anyone that doesn’t know the address, only the secret keeper is the person that can give out the address, as you can likely tell, they protect the secret to the property. Now, Sirius Black was the eldest son of the Blacks, a Pureblood family that was the second wealthiest and most powerful family in Wizarding Europe. His parents were truly awful people, abusing Sirius because he didn’t follow the same views as his family had for generations; he didn’t believe in blood supremacy and when he was sixteen he was disowned and literally blasted off the family tree, he was taken in by the Potters since James Potter was his best friend. Sirius Black was originally supposed to be the secret keeper but due to Sirius being so close to James, practically brothers, they decided it wasn’t safe.”

“The other side would assume he was this secret keeper and capture him, they’d try to force him to tell them the address?” Sam guessed.

“Yes, exactly,” she smiled at him. “There were two other friends, Remus Lupin, he was a Half-blood, a muggle mother and Half-blood father. His father was known for his hatred towards werewolves and when Remus was four-years-old, he was bitten by a werewolf.” They looked horrified. “He changed every full moon, but he wasn’t a monster, Remus Lupin, despite his Lycanthropy, was one of the kindest men I have ever met. He never hurt anyone and during the war, he was sent on missions to infiltrate other werewolf packs and convince them to fight for The Order. The other friend was Peter Pettigrew,” she couldn’t help it, she spat his name in disgust and anger. “He was a Pureblood and these four were best friends from the age of eleven. Peter was the least likely choice and so he was made the secret keeper. What they didn’t know was that he was secretly spying for Voldemort. On Halloween, 1981, he betrayed the Potters, gave the address of their safe house to Voldemort and he found them. James and Lily Potter were murdered in cold blood; he turned his wand on Harry and cast the Killing Curse.”

“The Killing Curse is one of the Unforgivables, the use of it will earn you a one-way ticket to Azkaban, our prison that is guarded by dark creatures, preventing escape. Nothing can stop the Killing Curse, _nothing_ ,” she emphasised. “But Harry survived, and Voldemort was defeated when the curse backfired. It was a miracle, a one-year-old baby, Harry Potter, had saved the world.” They all blinked several times before taking a drink from their beer bottles. “Harry Potter is the most famous wizard in the Wizarding World and has been since birth; he’s known as The Chosen One, The-Boy-Who-Lived. Harry was sent to live with his muggle Aunt and Uncle, and their son. They hated him because they knew he possessed magic, it was impossible for him not to. Eleven years later we got our admission letters to Hogwarts.”

“What’s Hogwarts?” Sam asked.

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was founded over a thousand years ago, by four of the most powerful witches and wizards in history, Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw. It’s the most prestigious school in Wizarding Europe and it’s hidden from muggles, the castle being located in the Scottish Mountains. Hogwarts trains young witches and wizards to harness their magic, they teach them how to control their magic and they prepare them for life outside of the castle walls. For seven years you attend. It’s the most magical place you could ever see. I loved it there, it was my home, we were protected there, or at least we thought we were,” she sighed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Our first year at school, it was... Eventful to say the least. Ronald Weasley is a Pureblood, with his five older brothers and younger sister, they all attended Hogwarts. Harry, Ron and I became friends after they saved me from a mountain troll that had gotten loose in Hogwarts. They saved my life and I covered for them, from that point on a friendship was born, we were known as ‘The Golden Trio.’ It was unusual for you to see us without all three of us together. We were inseparable. We discovered that someone was trying to steal this magical stone that was hidden in the castle and it had the ability to give you immortality, as well as turning any metal into gold. Long story short, we faced a Cerberus, killer plants, a killer potions riddle, a life-size game of wizarding chess, in which the pieces are alive and actually destroy each other and we almost died. Harry stopped what was later discovered as Voldemort possessing one of our teachers, from coming back to full power.”

“How old were you?”

“Ronald and I were twelve, Harry eleven,” she shrugged. “Second year, a dangerous beast had been released into the castle and it was freezing people in time, Muggleborns to be specific. A cat, a ghost, myself and three other Muggleborn students were frozen. A lot of stuff happened but in the end, Harry killed the beast and rescued Ginny Weasley who was possessed by the spirit of Voldemort. Third year, Sirius Black was arrested for the murder of the Potters, Pettigrew and twelve muggles, he was framed all those years ago and he escaped from prison twelve years later. We didn’t know he was innocent at the time and thought he was trying to kill Harry. Again, a lot happened and we had a run-in with Sirius, we found out he was innocent and that Pettigrew was alive, he was a shape-shifter, he could turn into a rat, Ronald had a pet rat, twelve-years-old.” Their eyes widened in understanding. “It was a full moon and Remus was a professor at Hogwarts, he forgot to take his potion. Again, a lot happened but in short, Harry and I travelled back in time, saved Sirius’ life as well as a hippogriff’s and Sirius went on the run.”

“Fourth year, there was this tournament, a school from Bulgaria and France stayed at the castle with us. One person over the age of seventeen was chosen to take part, the three tasks were dangerous as they had been known to kill people. That’s why they stopped the tournament for centuries before bringing it back. Harry’s name was chosen but he didn’t enter, he was only fourteen. His competitors were older, had more experience and knew magic Harry didn’t even know existed. In short, he got past the dragon, he survived the task in the Black Lake and saved his chosen person, well, people, and the final task was a trap. He was escorted to a graveyard and Cedric Diggory, the other Hogwarts Champion, was murdered in front of Harry. A ritual was performed and Voldemort was restored to full power. Harry barely escaped alive.”

“Fifth year, everything went to pot. The school was being monitored by the government because they didn’t believe Headmaster Dumbledore and Harry were telling the truth about Voldemort’s return. We weren’t allowed to practice any defensive magic, only theory. The bloody moron they sent in as a professor taught us how to run away, God, I hated that woman and her stupid fake smile and hideous pink tweed suit she was so fond of wearing,” she scowled. “She looked like a pink marshmallow man.” They snorted at her. “We came up with the idea to teach ourselves defensive magic illegally, Harry was our teacher. By the end of the year, we had been discovered and Dumbledore was almost arrested but he escaped. Umbridge or Dumbitch as I called her, was made Headmistress. She used illegal punishments and wouldn’t allow us to do practical magic, in a bloody magic school, might I add. Anyway, Harry was somehow connected to Voldemort and he could see things, he had a vision of Sirius, his Godfather, being tortured.”

“Again, long story short, we tried to leave the castle but were caught, Umbridge was going to torture Harry for information so I led her into a trap and she was attacked by a giant and carried away by a heard of centaurs.” A brief moment of fear shot through their eyes. “We ended up at the Ministry of Magic and a battle ensured. I don’t remember much of that night, I was hit by a dark curse and I almost died, I was only sixteen. When I woke up, the world finally knew that Voldemort was back and Sirius had been killed in battle, many Death Eaters were captured.”

“Sixth year, well, it was awful and an underage Death Eater, Draco, was forced to take the dark mark for his father’s failure and he was given a task. He had to kill Dumbledore, who Voldemort feared because he was a very powerful and wise wizard. Draco accidentally cursed a girl who ended up in hospital, he accidentally poisoned Ronald and at the end of the year, when it came to killing Dumbledore, he couldn’t do it. Severus Snape, a spy for The Order of twenty years, killed Dumbledore. Before Harry’s seventeenth birthday we had to bring him to safety since the war was raging and he was the only one that could kill Voldemort and he had to be protected at all costs. We had devised a plan; we have this potion that can make you look like anyone as long as you have their hair. I’m talking about a perfect carbon copy, a clone. Six of us took the potion with Harry’s hair in and the other seven were to act as our guard.”

“We were betrayed; Voldemort and his Death Eaters were waiting for us before we even got in the air. Alastor Moody died and George Weasley lost his left ear. During Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour’s wedding we received a message that the Ministry of Magic had fallen, Voldemort had taken over and we were attacked. Harry, Ronald and I went on the run, we had a mission to complete, and if we did, Voldemort could be killed.”

“Why couldn’t he be killed?” Bobby asked.

“He was immortal; Voldemort had discovered the knowledge of an archaic and dark form of magic that had been wiped from the Wizarding World because it was so horrific. It requires murdering in cold blood and ripping your soul apart, encasing that fragment of soul in an object or living thing. He had done this seven times. He was no longer human, but a monster. He was pale, like candle wax, he was bald and noseless, he was like a walking skeleton, tall and bony, but the worst was his blood-red eyes.” A haunted look entered her eyes before she shook her head. “The only problem was, we didn’t know how to destroy these virtually indestructible objects, we didn’t know where they were hidden and we didn’t know what these objects were. After a lot of injuries, walking into traps, breaking and entering, kidnapping, breaking the law, avoiding Death Eaters and Snatchers, Ronald leaving in a fit of rage and returning months later, with one of the objects destroyed, we were captured by Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor. I did my best to disguise Harry. Harry and Ron were taken to the dungeons and I was tortured for information for hours before we escaped. We learned where another object was hidden, so we broke into Gringotts bank, the most impenetrable place in the world, but got in easily enough, getting out was the difficult part. We were doubled crossed by a goblin and we managed to escape on the back of a dragon. We learned that Voldemort knew of our mission and he was furious, and suddenly the Final Battle was upon us.”

“With some help, we made our way into Hogwarts which was being run by Death Eaters, students were being tortured and forced to learn dark magic. Ronald and I took the object and destroyed it whilst Harry searched for another one and the battle started. The Death Eaters were forced out of Hogwarts and we took control back of the castle. Students younger than seventeen and all the Slytherins were taken and hidden in the dungeons and everyone else stayed to fight. The Final Battle lasted for twenty-four hours and in that time Harry had sacrificed himself and died, Voldemort brought him to us and boasted that we had lost. But Harry came back from the dead and he duelled with Voldemort, and Harry won.”

“Voldemort fell to the ground and turned into ash, his remains being swept away in the wind never to be seen again. May 2nd,1998, the Wizarding World was free of the terror and pain and death it had been suffering under. We rounded up as many Death Eaters as we could and we healed our injured and buried our dead. Fred Weasley, Ronald’s older brother and George Weasley’s twin died. So did Remus Lupin and his wife, Tonks, and they left behind a three-week-old baby. I was only eighteen when it finally came to an end. So many good people died, but slowly the Wizarding World healed. That was nine years ago. To this day there are still Death Eaters on the run and they’re being tracked and captured, there’s still a small resistance of Death Eaters trying to carry on Voldemort’s work but they’ll never get very far. With people like Harry and I working hard to bring them to justice, we’re not going to stop until our world is free of such ideals and prejudice.”

She looked up from the kitchen table and to the three Hunters, noticing that they were staring at her with wide eyes and their mouths open, speechless.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 9

"Not what you were expecting, huh?" She said amused.

They shook their heads simultaneously.

Sam cleared his throat. " _What_ exactly is it that you do?" He asked her.

"I am the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement and Auror Department that deals with Death Eaters and Magical Creatures. Harry deals with crime in the Wizarding World, my jurisdiction is the Muggle World. Since I was raised in the Muggle World I have a greater understanding than those that were raised in the Wizarding World, I can survive in both worlds. I try to spend equal amounts of time in both worlds so that I can keep myself grounded, remember who I am and where I come from."

"Must be dangerous," he commented.

"It is, but I love my job; I'm putting murderers and psychopaths either in prison or six feet under, depends on the situation. I would never kill in cold blood, but if I have to defend myself, I will. I've been defending myself from monsters since I was twelve, I have fourteen years of battle experience were most of my targets are still in training robes," she snorted. "I also deal with creatures such as werewolves, vampires, veelas, sirens, succubi, twenty-foot long snakes, giant, _giant_ spiders, mermaids, things like that. Most of the time you Hunters do my job for me and I can focus on Death Eaters. I have a lot of cases, but the ones that have a higher death count get my attention. I have fifty Aurors under my command, Draco mostly stays in England seeing as he has a wife and a baby on the way whereas I don't have any family."

"What about siblings? Cousins? Parents?" Sam asked with a frown; he only had Dean and Bobby, but still, it was family, no matter how small.

"No, my grandparents died when I was little, my parents didn't have any siblings and I was an only child myself. Before we retrieved Harry for his safety after Dumbledore's death, I erased the memories of my parents, I never existed and they never had a daughter, all evidence of me was gone. Afterwards, I gave them new identities and gave them the urge to pack up and leave Europe altogether, instead, moving to Australia."

"Why would you do that?"

"I had to, I was the Muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter, he was the most wanted man in Wizarding Europe because of Voldemort, he was Undesirable Number One and I was Undesirable Number Two. Voldemort would've killed my parents to bring me out of hiding, to cause me pain, to cause Harry pain because he would've blamed himself."

"So what happened to your parents?" Sam asked.

"Murdered by Death Eaters before they'd even arrived at the airport, but I made sure the ones responsible got what they deserved, they died in the Final Battle. I have no biological family but I do have the Weasleys, the Potters and the Malfoys, but it's not the same anymore. It was expected of myself and Ronald to get married and have a hoard of redheaded curly-haired children running around," she rolled her eyes. "We dated after the war, but it wasn't right, all we did was argue and he cheated on me," she shrugged. "After we broke up things between us shifted, I'm not as close to Ronald as I used to be, he cheated on the girl he cheated on me with and now he has two kids to two different women. He can't keep a girlfriend for more than a month; he's a serial cheater, yet the idiots date him because he's good looking and famous. They all think they can change him, get him to put a rock on their finger and give them the key to his bank vault," she rolled her eyes.

"It took years for George to heal after his twin's death but now he's married and he's got two kids. Charlie works in Romania on a dragon reserve, he's a dragon tamer and he's finally found someone, though marriage is nowhere on his list of things to do in the foreseeable future. Bill's a curse breaker, he's still married to Fleur and they have three kids. Percy married, too, and he's got a kid on the way. Ginny and Harry married, and they have three kids now. Draco married Luna Lovegood, a Half-blood much to the shock of everyone and they have their first child on the way, she's due in about two months. They all have their lives, and I have mine. I spend most of my time travelling around the US, there aren't many Death Eaters in Europe anymore, seeing as we've caught them, most fled here and so I work here," she shrugged. "It's just me and Ricky."

"Ricky? Who's Ricky?" Dean spoke for the first time since they had entered the house.

"I'll show you, he's around here somewhere, he's never too far away unless he's delivering a letter."

That earned raised eyebrows. She brought her hand up to her mouth and whistled loudly. They heard a distinct hoot before an owl suddenly swooped into the kitchen from the open window.

Much to their surprise, the owl landed on Hermione's shoulder and nuzzled against her cheek, hooting affectionately as she smiled and petted it. The owl was small with different shades of brown for its feathers; a few white spots lined the edge of the feathers, as well as lining around the bright yellow eyes.

"This is my elf owl, Ricky. Witches and wizards have familiars, usually owls, rats, cats and toads. We use owls to deliver our mail for us, they're one of our forms of communication since we don't have technology or electricity," she shrugged. "Anyway, back to my original point. Draco works in England, I mainly work from here and the others under my command are spread around the globe and work in conjunction with other Ministries. I have an understanding with the American Ministry, I take care of their problem for them and they leave me alone. Besides, they don't want to piss me off."

"Why not?" Bobby asked.

"Well, I'm known for being very creative with my hexes and quite vengeful, too," she said sheepishly.

"How so?" He said with a curiously raised eyebrow.

"Well, during that illegal defence group we started my fifth year, I charmed the signup sheet so that if we were ever betrayed, we would know who it was. The girl still has 'sneak' written on her forehead in acne and nothing can cover it, it's permanent. When I was fourteen, I broke Draco's nose because he was being a dickhead, well, he's _always_ a dickhead he's just not as bad as he used to be. When I was fifteen, there was this reporter who thought it was appropriate to write slandering material about two minors and a professional athlete, I found out she was an illegal Animagus, so I set a trap for her, trapped her in her Animagus form and kept her in a glass jar for two months."

They gawked; she saw amusement on Dean's face, shock on Sam's and approval on Bobby's.

"What's an Ani..."

"Animagus, it's a shape-shifter, except they are not born with the ability to shift. It can take years of training your body and mind, and you can only turn into an animal. Sirius Black turned into a large dog. James Potter turned into a stag and Pettigrew a rat, they became illegal Animagi so that they could be with Remus at the full moon; he was less likely to hurt himself when he had company, they were his pack and so he never hurt them. When you become an Animagus you're supposed to register yourself with the Ministry so they can track you. If you don't and you are found to be an Animagus, it's an automatic one-year prison sentence," she shrugged. "Now, I believe that I have explained myself, I really do have murdering psychopaths to track down, so if you will excuse me, I better get back to work." She stood up from her seat, her owl still perched on her shoulder.

"There's no point," Bobby spoke.

He gestured to the window and when she looked outside, it was to see the sky dark. She hadn't realised just how long she'd been there.

"Fine, I still better go, there's bound to be a motel around here somewhere, until next time," she sarcastically saluted them and then turned and made her way out of the room.

"You can stay here," Bobby offered.

"What?" Dean, Sam and Hermione all spluttered in unrehearsed unison, the witch halting in her steps by the doorway and turning to look over her shoulder at the older Hunter.

"You can stay here," he shrugged. "The boys can share and you can take the spare room."

"That's kind of you, but I won't intrude on your privacy, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I know they've never met my kind before and therefore they likely don't trust me or my magic, and I use magic quite a lot. It's who I am and I can't suppress that. I'll just find a motel; I can start on my tracking of the Death Eaters whilst I'm at it," she smiled gratefully at his offer.

"Hermione, you should stay," Sam spoke, much to her surprise.

"But..."

"It's only for the night, besides, if we run into another witch like you, we need to be sure that we know the difference between your kind and our kind, so that we don't have an angry magical community wanting revenge, this gives us a chance to learn more about you, to better understand you."

She frowned slightly and nibbled at her lip thoughtfully. "Alright, I can see the logic in that, I don't want you hurting any of my people and I don't want them to retaliate and hurt you, it wouldn't be good for us to be on the Hunter's kill list. I'll stay for the night but I'll take the couch, I'm not taking anyone's room from them. This way I'm not too close to you and you may even feel more comfortable without me being in the room next to you. You want to know about my people, my magic?" Bobby and Sam nodded, Dean just swigged from his beer, his eyes narrowed on her. "I have some books that you can read; hopefully it will help you to better understand."

"Books?" Sam seemed to perk up and Dean rolled his eyes at his dork of a brother.

"Yes, books, magical books to be specific, of course, I can't allow you to touch all of them."

"Why not?" He asked with a little pout and sad eyes, making Dean snort into his beer bottle.

"Some magical books can be _temperamental_."

"You speak as if they're alive and have feelings," Bobby looked at her like she was a few sickles short of a galleon.

"Some are and some do, for example, there's this book, _The Monster Book of Monsters_. It contains information about most of the magical creatures in the Wizarding World, the book itself is alive. It once tried to take Harry's head off because he didn't know how to handle it properly, for that reason he lost a shoe, the book ate it," she said fondly and they looked at her like she had two heads. "Of course, in order to get the book to cooperate, you have to stroke the spine until the book purrs and it opens for you without it trying to maim you. And that's a book students need at Hogwarts for their care of magical creatures class. Then you have books that contain weather magic, if you open the book, it may flood the entire room, or cause a hurricane or spew fire. Some books make noise, others are possessed, but then you have the illegal and dark books which have the ability to kill from a single touch, hence why they're illegal. Though the dark magic it contains is also a contributing factor for their illegality. If you are found to be in possession of an illegal book or magical artefact, it results in a hefty fine and repeated violation results in time in Azkaban."

"Do you have any of these books, illegal ones?" Bobby asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's best I don't answer that, that way I can't incriminate myself as well as make you witnesses."

He snorted at her and gave her a look of approval. "I like you, Missy," he said.

"Thanks, you're not so bad yourself, Mr. Singer."

He scowled. "Now, no more of this Mr. Singer, it's Bobby, just Bobby." He knew she was winding him up; when they'd worked together on that vampire nest case, she would say the same thing to annoy him.

"Well then, just Bobby," she said, making Sam chuckle in amusement. "I'll get those books for you and seeing as you're being kind enough to let me into your home, I'll cook, I'll even make dessert, too. I'm thinking pie, Merlin, I love pie," she groaned in appreciation and then turned and made her way out of the kitchen, leaving behind the three speechless Hunters.

That was, until, Sam burst out laughing at the surprised look on Dean's face and Bobby looked at him with a knowing smirk before taking a swig from his beer bottle.

 _This'll be interesting,_ Bobby thought amused.

"Hey, where did Castiel go?" Hermione asked as she walked back into the room, looking confused.

Sam's laughter tapered off and they all looked around surprised, noticing that Castiel was, indeed, no longer with them.

"Huh, I didn't even notice him leave," Sam commented.

"Neither did I. If he thinks he's getting away with ignoring me for two years and dying without telling me, he's got another thing coming, he deserves everything I have planned for him."

"And what exactly is that?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head.

"Now that would be telling, I like to keep my plans under wraps until the great finale, years of growing up under the Weasley Twins has taught me well," she grinned mischievously before she turned to the owl still perched on her shoulder, and a few whispered words later, the owl hooted and flew off of her shoulder and out of the kitchen window.

"And where did you send the creepy little thing?" Dean asked, now swinging on his chair.

"First of all, I'd be careful with what you say about my owl, he's very touchy and hates being insulted, it's best to call him by his name. If he decided to peck your eyes out or attack you whilst you're sleeping, there's nothing I can do to stop him. And second of all..."

Hermione suddenly had her wand in her hand and she flicked it, Dean's chair toppled backwards and Dean let out a yell of surprise and a few swear words as he fell to the ground with a 'thud'.

"It's dangerous to swing on your chair, have you never heard the tale of the child that swung on his chair and had to go to hospital for stitches? No? It must be a British thing, well, now at least you know." She smiled sweetly and left the room once more, Dean standing up and pulling his gun and training it on her retreating back.

Hermione heard a scuffle behind her and she chuckled to herself as she heard Bobby's grumbles and insults and Sam and Dean fighting for control of the gun.

~000~000~000~

"Right then, time for food, Bobby, what do I have to work with?" Hermione asked with a smile as she entered the kitchen, no longer wearing her robes as she had changed her clothing.

She now wore an old Quidditch jersey which once belonged to Harry and a pair of blue skinny jeans, with red converse on her feet. Her thick ringlets had been pulled up into a messy pile on top of her head and her wand was tucked into her curls.

The three Hunters hadn't moved since she last left them, though Dean was glaring at her whilst Sam had two handguns _and_ a knife far out of reach of Dean and he held an amused look on his face.

Bobby shrugged in response to her question.

"Oh, honestly," she huffed. "What is it with you men? You can never give a simple answer."

"I got supplies, mainly just the basics, beer, milk, beer, bread, eggs, beer."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, then I'll have a nosey through your kitchen cupboards." She responded and she did exactly that, going through his cupboards and the fridge to see what she had to work with. After ten minutes of searching the bare cupboards, she had found the ingredients to make either a lasagne or a cottage pie. She went with the lasagne.

She pulled her wand from her hair and started flicking it, summoning cooking utensils and setting the oven to the temperature she desired. They all watched with wide eyes as dishes floated around the room and slowly lowered to where they were needed, all the while she ignored them and set to work making them dinner; she was bloody starving.

None of them spoke whilst she cooked the meal; they just watched her until she summoned the plates and crockery and sent them to the table. With the help of a few cooking spells, the lasagne was done in half the time it would take a muggle to cook. Hermione even had a few ingredients in her beaded bag so she could make a pie, which was baking in the oven, mind you, she _always_ had ingredients in her bag to make a pie.

Hermione levitated the steaming dish over to the table and when she noticed the blood that hadn't been washed off the table, _her_ blood, she frowned. With a few whispered words, the table was clean and blood-free. She put the dish in the centre of the table and took her seat.

"Tuck in," she gestured to the food.

Bobby was the first to move, grabbing the serving spoon and putting a portion of the lasagne onto his plate. Sam was next, he served himself a bigger portion of food. Hermione waited for Dean to get his food but he didn't move, just stared between her and the dish.

"Oh, for Merlin's Sake, Winchester," she said, rubbing at her temples to stave off the headache she could feel forming. "You just sat and watched me make the damn thing, I haven't put anything into the food that shouldn't be there."

"Like I can trust you," he glared at her from across the table.

"Have I done anything to earn your mistrust? No, I haven't. Your hatred of me is unjustified. I'm not one of those idiotic fuckwits that think it's fun to play deal or no deal with my soul in order to feel better about myself and get revenge, or for whatever reason it is those arseholes sell their souls for. I was _born_ with my magic, I was born the way I am, I will always have magic; it is in my blood, my DNA. Just as you have green eyes or Sam is tall. I cannot change who I am or what I am capable of. I'm not judging you for what you are and what you do; please give me the same courtesy," she spoke in a calm tone, her eyes boring into his.

Dean didn't reply but when he saw Sam and Bobby both eating their food and neither of them showed signs of impending death, he served himself some food and slowly took a bite. He couldn't stop himself, his eyes closed at the taste of a proper home-cooked meal; he couldn't remember the last time he'd one, and one that tasted so good either!

"It's not awful," he muttered.

Hermione smiled to herself and took it as a compliment before serving herself some food and she began eating. They ate in silence, the only sounds were that of forks clattering against plates and beers being picked up and placed back on the table. Hermione's wand started to buzz, just as they were finishing up with their dinner.

"Oh, the pie's done, perfect timing," she grinned, before standing up and moving over to the oven.

With the aid of magic, she had the plates and crockery sitting in the sink, clean plates on the table and she was levitating the pie into the centre of the table.

"Apple and blackcurrant pie," she beamed, gesturing for them to take as much as they wished.

It was Bobby that cut his slice first, followed by Sam. Dean once again seemed hesitant, though Hermione could see the adoration in his eyes as he stared at the pie lovingly.

Slowly he cut himself a large slice before having the first taste. As much as he hated to admit it, it was one of the best pies he'd ever tasted. Hermione snorted at him and his eyes snapped open, only just realising that he'd closed his eyes as he revelled in the deliciousness of the pie.

"Enjoying yourself there?" She asked amused, Bobby was smirking whilst Sam sniggered. His eyes narrowed at her. "You looked to be having a good time is all, what with all that moaning and groaning you were doing," she smirked at him.

He scowled at her, before glaring at Sam who was now laughing loudly, and then ignoring them all and returning to eating the rest of his pie, later going back for seconds.

When there was no pie left, mainly because Dean had eaten four slices by himself, Hermione sent the remaining dishes to the sink before filling it with water and charming the dishes to wash and dry themselves, the three Hunters watching the dishes in wonder.

"Right then, I'll see if I can find those books for you," she spoke, quickly pulling out the small beaded bag from her pocket and putting it on the table. She opened it and put her hand inside, looking around for the books that she wanted them to read. "Just give me a second, they're here somewhere." She told them, their eyes widened when they heard things being jostled about, things clinking and tinkling, creaking and breaking.

"I think I have them," she muttered, pulling out her hand and placing the large tome on the table, before going back in twice more and pulling out two more books, equally as big. "So, these three books are a good place for you to start if you wish to understand my world. We have _Hogwarts, a History_ , as you can likely tell, it details the entire history of Hogwarts, starting from its formation up to the Final Battle. It entails but is not limited to, the portraits, moving staircases, the Forbidden Forest, rules and regulations, ghosts, hidden and secret passageways, the library, the common rooms and dorm rooms, the founders themselves and previous headmasters, also including yours truly and the famous Golden Trio." They stared at her.

"The second book we have is based on the general history of the Wizarding World, and the final book entails what a first year student learns during their time at Hogwarts. It includes a breakdown of subjects, professors and information on spells and charms and instructions on how to cast them perfectly. I will admit that there is dark magic out there, I've seen it, you've seen it, but not all magic is evil. I love magic, but I love the magic that brings joy to people's lives, magic that can make a child laugh in uncontrollable delight. Magic that can make people feel hope, that shows that there's good in the world. There isn't anything more innocent than a first year learning magic for the first time in their lives."

"What do you mean by that? Surely those that grow up knowing about magic have practised it?" Sam spoke confused.

"No, witches and wizards are not allowed to practice magic outside of school until they are of age, seventeen. While those that grow up in the Wizarding World are around it every day, they are not permitted to practice magic until they get their wands at the age of eleven and are in school and until they reach seventeen outside of school. Accidental magic is perfectly normal for a magical child, emotions run high and the child doesn't know how to control their magic and so they have outbursts, this usually stops when they receive their wands since it centres their magic. In the Muggle World, when a child starts having accidental magical outbursts, a Ministry worker is dispatched to erase the memories of any witnesses that aren't allowed to know of the existence of magic," she shrugged. "There's a magical trace on children, this gives the Ministry the ability to track the use of magic by those underage and it has severe consequences, including being expelled from school, losing your wand and having your memories of the Wizarding World and magic wiped, and being exiled into the Muggle World none the wiser." They stared at her, surprised to hear there were such strict restrictions on magic usage. "Who wants which book, History of the Wizarding World, History of Hogwarts or Spellbook?"

"I'll take Wizarding World," Bobby spoke up, Hermione nodded and slid the book over to him.

"Hogwarts," Sam answered, his eyes gleaming in a similar way to Hermione when being presented with a new book. She slid the book over to him and before she even looked at Dean, Sam had the book open to the first page and his attention was solely on the words before him.

"That leaves you with the Spellbook," Hermione spoke, pushing the book over to Dean.

His eyes moved between her and the book several times before he spoke. "I don't read," he said.

"That's your choice, do as you wish. I won't and can't force you to do anything you don't wish to. I'll leave you to your own devices, I need to do some research and write a report before tomorrow morning, anyway."

She stood from her chair before leaving the room, heading into the living room and sitting down on the worn couch, pulling out some paperwork from her beaded bag and beginning to fill it out appropriately.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

“Giant Squid? Seriously?”

Hermione looked up from her book and towards the voice. It was Sam and he was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest and an amused smile pulling at his mouth.

“Yes, the Giant Squid and he’s a sweetheart.” He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Honestly, he is, he likes to have his tentacles tickled, he loves to play fetch and his favourite food is toast, plus, if someone falls in the Black Lake, he rescues them and takes them back to land. Most students are afraid of him but I’ve passed on my knowledge to my nieces and nephews and when they start Hogwarts, the Giant Squid will have someone to keep him company.”

“Ghosts? You actually allow ghosts to occupy a place where children live?”

“They’re not vengeful spirits, they’re not the type of ghosts you deal with. They don’t harm anyone, well except Peeves, but he’s a poltergeist that loves to play pranks on the students and professors, particularly the caretaker, Filch, but he’s a horrible man so it’s understandable.” He snorted at her. “Besides, the ghosts are kind of like our mascots, Slytherin has the Bloody Baron, a foul-tempered old bastard and he’s the only thing that can control Peeves. Ravenclaw has the Grey Lady, also known as Helena Ravenclaw, the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff has the Fat Friar and Gryffindor has Nearly Headless Nick. Of course, they all died on castle grounds and decided to stay. There are other ghosts but none worth mentioning, well, there’s Professor Binns, Professor of History of Magic. Word on the corridors is that he died in his sleep and his ghost turned up to his class the next day, we don’t even think he knows he’s dead,” she shrugged.

He blinked at that, apparently finding it hard to digest that a ghost actually taught children at Hogwarts. “Alright, moving staircases?”

“Yes, and they’re a right pain in the arse, especially when you’re running late for class. They derail you and you have to wait twenty minutes for the stairs to return you to the correct floor of the castle.”

“And talking portraits?”

“Yes, some aren’t too bad, others are a nightmare, like Walburga Black, horrid woman she is, well, was. Her portrait was in Grimmauld, Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix. Whenever she was woken she would scream and spout off blood supremacy bollocks about how we were unworthy to be in her presence and we were befouling the home of her ancestors,” she rolled her eyes causing him to chuckle. “You should’ve been there the day Sirius told her that he wanked off in her bedroom.”

He spluttered and she heard a sudden laugh, she turned her head to see Dean walking into the room, looking calmer than he had earlier and laughing joyously.

“Well done, Witch, it’s not often I see the Sasquatch speechless.”

She took the compliment, even if it was slightly insulting, but it was progress. “If I didn’t know she was already dead and buried, I would’ve thought she’d die in disgust,” she smirked in amusement.

“What’s a house-elf?” Sam asked, bringing her attention back to him and she noticed the blush covering his cheeks, she decided to leave off on the teasing, getting the feeling his brother would do it more than enough for the both of them. “They’re mentioned in the book you gave me.”

“House-elves are essentially magical creatures that live to serve wizards and witches, basically they are slaves. Years ago I didn’t understand the bond that a house-elf shares with their master and I started this crusade to free all house-elves from slavery. But what I didn’t understand at the time was that house-elves love to serve, it’s what they live for. Without having a master or family to serve, they have no purpose and if they have no purpose, they die. House-elves can live for centuries and most stay with the family they are first bound to until their death. Even though I understood their need to serve, I wasn’t happy with the treatment they received. Abuse, starvation, self-harm, torture. I couldn’t stand by and watch these creatures suffer, and so, over the years I worked in conjunction with the Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures Department and together we instilled laws that forbid house-elves from being abused and punished, they are to receive a fair wage and are entitled to holidays, I believe that everyone should have equal rights, no matter their species or background.” She said passionately and she forced down the blush when she realised that she had gone off on a rant, and the now three Hunters that stood by the doorway, were staring at her with different levels of surprise and admiration. She cleared her throat. “Any more questions?”

Bobby broke the silence. “In the book, it mentioned a war during the forties, a wizard...”

“Gellert Grindelwald,” she supplied.

“That’s the guy. There was a symbol.”

She frowned thoughtfully before it hit her. “A triangle with a circle in the centre and a line through it?” He nodded. “That’s the omen of the Deathly Hallows.”

“The what now?” Sam asked, his head cocked to the side and intrigue shining in his eyes.

“The Deathly Hallows, it’s a wizarding legend, though it isn’t spoken of much anymore, I hadn’t heard of it and it was a clue to the mission I was on to destroy parts of Voldemort’s soul. I was tasked with translating the Ancient Runes into English, took me bloody ages, and even then I still struggled to find a reference to it of any kind. In the end, it was Harry that had the solution, he knew someone that may have known of the tale, Luna Lovegood’s father. During our time on the run we visited him,” she explained.

“So what is it? If it was a clue as you say it was, it must’ve been important,” Sam spoke.

He moved over to the couch opposite her, followed by Bobby and Dean plopped himself down on the armchair, looking the perfect picture of calm, though she could see the wariness in his eyes. 

“It was; if it wasn’t for the Deathly Hallows we wouldn’t have won the war.”

“How so?”

“The legend is something along the lines of there being three brothers. These three brothers come across a river, a river that had taken many lives for if the three brothers attempted to cross it, they would surely drown. The three brothers thought of a cunning plan in which they created a bridge using magic, a bridge that allowed them to cross the river unharmed. Once they were on the other side, Death appeared and he praised them on their ability to trick him. As a reward Death gave the three brothers a wish each.” Sam and Bobby both sat forward, Dean raised an eyebrow at her. “The first brother, the eldest, wished to have a wand more powerful than anything on earth and Death granted him that wish. He formed a wand from a nearby elder tree, creating the Elder Wand, which he gifted to the brother. The second brother asked for something to recall loved ones from the grave, Death was furious but created the Resurrection Stone from a stone from the river and gifted it to the brother. The third brother, the youngest, he was humble and asked for something that would allow him to hide from his enemies. Death tore a piece of fabric off from his own cloak and he created an Invisibility Cloak, which he gifted to the brother and they all left, going their separate ways. But Death always claims his victims.”

“What happened to them?” Sam asked excitedly and causing her to chuckle at him whilst Dean rolled his eyes at his brother, but he, too, listened attentively.

“The first brother competed in duels and he boasted to everyone that he had the most powerful wand in the world, that with it he would never be beaten in battle. But during the night when the first brother was sleeping, someone broke into his room and slit his throat, they stole the Elder Wand. Death claimed the first brother that night.” She paused to let it sink in. “The second brother resurrected his love, the woman he was set to marry before she died. He was delighted to have her back, but it wasn’t right. The woman, she may have been in the mortal world, but she didn’t belong there. She was sad and cold, she was lifeless, without a soul and she suffered. Unable to take the pain she killed herself, in the grief of losing his love once again, the second brother took his life, hence Death took his next victim.” She paused once more. “The third and final brother was a wise and humble man and when he parted ways with his brothers, he lived his life. Death searched for the youngest brother and years passed before he finally found him. The third brother had lived a long life and he had a family, it wasn’t until he removed the Invisibility Cloak and gifted it to his son, that Death found him and the third brother greeted Death as an old friend and willingly went with him.”

The room was silent.

“A lovely tale, very entertaining,” Dean drawled, “But I still don’t understand what this has to do with you destroying parts of a psychopath’s soul.”

“The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone and the Invisibility Cloak, together they make the Deathly Hallows; if a person possesses all three, they are the Master of Death. They are said to be able to control Death itself and to communicate with him. It’s believed that the Peverell brothers are the three brothers from the tale. Harry was gifted the Invisibility Cloak for Christmas his first year, it was a family heirloom; this means that Harry originates from the Peverells bloodline, more precisely the third brother. The Gaunts, Voldemort’s wizarding ancestors, were direct descendants from Salazar Slytherin himself. He was in possession of the Gaunt family ring, it was one of the objects and Dumbledore destroyed it. We later discovered that the ring contained the Resurrection Stone, which Dumbledore later hid in an object that he left to Harry in his will. The Elder Wand was in the possession of Dumbledore after winning its allegiance in a duel. If you disarm the Master of the Elder Wand, you become the new master. Dumbledore was disarmed before his death by Draco. During our time in capture, before we escaped Harry disarmed Draco. Harry is the Master of the Elder Wand.”

“He has all three?” Bobby frowned.

“Not anymore,” she lied, but they didn’t need to know that. “But he once did. Harry uses his Invisibility Cloak for work and the Elder Wand he uses every day, he’s still getting used to the power it holds, magnifying all of his spell work by tenfold. If he hadn’t destroyed the Resurrection Stone he would’ve been the Master of Death, but I know Harry better than I know myself; he doesn’t wish for fame or power, he just wants to have a normal life with his family, keeping them safe by capturing dark magic practitioners and then going home to tuck his three children into bed, then dying in peace after watching his grandchildren, great-grandchildren, even great-great-great-grandchildren, grow up.”

“That’s impossible,” Dean snorted.

“It’s not,” she promised, “Witches and wizards have a longer life span than muggles; we can live up to the age of two hundred, some even longer. It depends on the strength of your magical core; after all, that is what keeps us alive. You also have to take into account illness, being affected by dark magic, injury, accidental death and of course, the big kicker, murder. If you are healthy and magically powerful, there’s no reason why you can’t live longer than the average of two hundred.”

“That’s strange,” he scrunched up his face.

“Not really, it’s the way things have always been,” she shrugged. “Any more questions?” They looked at her thoughtfully. “Well if you think of anything you would like to know, just ask and I’ll do my best to answer, but I better get back to researching now,” she said, looking back down at her book.

“What are you doing?” It was Bobby that asked her.

“Researching some dark curses,” she shrugged, not taking her eyes off the words in front of her.

“Why? You said you don’t practice dark magic,” Dean bit out, his eyes narrowed on her and his hands gripping the armrests of the armchair.

“I don’t,” she said lightly. “Why do you research demons, magical creatures, Witchcraft and Wiccan?” She asked.

“So we know what we’re up against, so we know how to stop them,” Sam answered. He then chuckled, “I see your point.”

She nodded, but still, her attention was on the book. “I research dark magic so that I know how to recognise it. I have to be able to know the difference between an _Incarcerous_ and a _Crucio_.”

“What?”

“One’s a Body-bind in which ropes tie you up and the other is the Torture Curse, an Unforgivable, and is identified by a neon yellow beam of light. There is such a thing as non-verbal magic, being able to cast spells without speaking. If your opponent is able to cast non-verbal magic, then you can’t hear the incantation, therefore you have to be able to recognise it by the colour of light or the wand movements. It’s the line between life and death for me. Also, if I understand _how_ a curse affects a person, _how_ it injures, then maybe I can reverse the effects, maybe I can find a potion or healing spell to counter the damage done and relieve any pain, maybe I can stop someone from dying. A lot of the time I find myself in hostage situations, I need to be prepared for anything. I’ve been researching dark magic and their curses since I was seventeen and even now, nine years later, I’m still learning and memorising everything I read. I would never dream of casting the curses I have learned from my research but it’s vital to my survival, as well as the survival of others, that I know everything I can about my enemy and the way their twisted minds think.” Suddenly she stood, snapping her book shut. “I’m hungry, I want some cake, do you have cake? I’ll have a look,” she left the room.

Sam started laughing. “She’s worse than you,” he said through his laughter and Bobby smirked at the annoyed look on Dean’s face.

~000~000~000~

The next morning found the three Hunters entering the living room to find Hermione sat in the same position they had left her in the night before. She was sat on the armchair, her legs dangling over the side of the armrest, a book resting on her lap as she read from it, her eyes scanning the page and taking in the information rapidly. If she didn’t have a different book from the one they saw her with last, they would’ve thought that she hadn’t moved since before they headed to bed.

“Hermione, did you sleep at all last night?” Sam asked with a frown. She ignored him, being too engrossed in her book. “Hermione?” Still, she remained unknowing of their presence.

“Witch!” Dean spoke loudly and her eyes snapped up to them.

“Sorry?” She said, her eyes looking tired.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Sam repeated.

“Of course, I did,” she smiled as stood from the armchair, snapping her book shut and then she flicked her wand, sending the books that covered the coffee table back into her beaded bag. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to shower, when I’m done I’ll make breakfast for everyone, I think I saw some flour in the cupboard, pancakes?” She didn’t give them the chance to answer as she left the room, heading to the stairs and up to the bathroom.

After showering, she dried off and dressed in black skinny jeans, black knee-high boots and a white long-sleeved blouse. She carried a light white jacket over her arm and her beaded bag was shrunken down and stowed away in her boot.

The three Hunters were sat around the kitchen table, books and newspaper articles covered the surface, Bobby seemed to be flicking through several books at once, Dean was flicking through the newspapers with a bored look on his face and Sam was on a laptop, his attention focused on the screen in front of him. Deciding to not disturb them since they were obviously busy, she set about making pancakes and she grimaced as she made some coffee; she wished she could have tea, but Bobby didn’t have any and she had run out, she would have to restock on a few things in her beaded bag when she next got the chance.

Hermione placed the plate stacked high with pancakes in the centre of the table, along with four cups of coffee and she placed some milk and sugar along with them since she didn’t know how they took their coffee. After placing the plates and cutlery on the table she sat down in her chair, pulling some pancakes onto her plate and she began eating. The three Hunters served themselves their food, absentmindedly eating whilst they continued with their tasks. It was ten minutes later when Hermione’s curiosity got the better of her.

“What are you doing?”

“Research for a case,” Sam replied, his eyes still focused on the laptop screen. “We caught wind of it a while back but there was no concrete evidence of something strange with the deaths, but the body count became too high to ignore.”

She frowned. “How did the victims die? Is there anything in common with them?”

“As far as we can tell they have no similarities,” he responded. “Different occupations, ages, genders, races, dry cleaners, nothing ties the victims together.”

“Cause of death?”

“Unknown, every autopsy report we managed to get our hands on states the same thing; every victim was completely healthy with no underlying issues and no traces of poison in their systems; they just died, for no reason. Their hearts just stopped, cause of death was ruled natural causes.”

“But you don’t believe that,” she stated, her mind beginning to put together the pieces of information that she had learned so far in an attempt to help them find their culprit.

“No, the death count’s too high, we think there may be witchcraft involved, that or some demon getting his jollies murdering the innocent,” Dean piped up, picking up a more recent newspaper. “There’ve been another three deaths in a town about five hours from here.”

“May I?” She gestured to the newspaper; he raised an eyebrow at her. “What? If you think it’s witchcraft maybe I can spot something that you missed. I might be able to shed some light on the situation, who knows magic better than me?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly but realised that she had a point and he pushed the newspaper over to her, her eyes scanning the article quickly as she picked it up.

_Three deaths. One female, 37, English teacher in a high school. One male, 24, Mechanic. And another male, 54, car salesman._

Hermione stood from her seat and paced back and forth, they all stopped what they were doing in favour of watching her trying to solve the puzzle they’d presented her

“I see your point, there’s nothing obvious that they have in common, they’re different heights, ages, genders, weights, they don’t even have the same eye or hair colour,” she thought aloud. “That’s definitely a little odd. What else did the coroner’s report say?”

“There was nothing useful in there, well, except for that weird drawing, it almost looked like a tattoo of some kind,” Sam spoke.

“Drawing?” She frowned.

“Yeah, each victim had a drawing somewhere on their body, it looked to have been done with some kind of invisible ink, it could only be seen under ultra-violet lighting.”

“What was this drawing of?”

“A strange-looking snake and skull,” he shrugged his shoulders.

Hermione’s pacing halted to a sudden stop and she stood rooted to the ground. Her face lost colour and she felt a wave of nausea hit her as she gripped the newspaper in her hands tightly, the article crunching in her grasp.

“Fuck!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

Her sudden use of profanities startled all three of them, making them jump slightly in their seats.

"What? What is it?" Sam frowned.

At his voice, her eyes darted to them and she snapped out of her shock, reaching for her jacket and she slipped it on. She made sure her beaded bag was securely hidden in her boot before pulling her wand and she quickly left the kitchen and made her way outside, waving her wand in intricate motions and patterns and muttering under her breath, the newspaper still clutched tightly in her other hand.

The deaths had been discovered before that morning, a couple of hours after Patterson had been arrested; they'd moved quickly and they'd killed another three people. She couldn't be sure it was the two she was tracking until she saw the victims and scanned them for any residual magic, but given the circumstances, it was likely the two Death Eaters that had gotten away.

"Hermione? What are you doing? What's going on? Do you know something?" Sam's voice spoke up from behind her; she turned her head slightly to see the three Hunters watching her closely.

"You're no longer working on this case."

"You don't get to tell us what to do, Witch!" Dean snapped.

She didn't look at him but she did respond. "Yes, I do, I'll have you arrested for interfering in my investigation."

"Your investigation? Are these the people you're tracking?" Sam asked confused.

"Yes, they've been on my radar for months but I had other cases that were more serious and they had to have my full attention, now it's the turn of these murdering twats."

"We can help," he offered. "We know this case better than anyone."

"No, I can't risk you getting injured, you can handle yourself against muggles, demons and false witchcraft, but you can't handle yourself against Death Eaters, I can't protect you and apprehend these arseholes at the same time."

"We're not letting you take this case from us, we can deal with a few stick waving idiots," Dean said stiffly.

"Got it!" She said triumphantly and then she lowered her wand and turned to face them. "Thank you for your hospitality, Bobby, maybe we'll run into each other in the future and if you ever need my help, just send me an owl; they'll know where to find me," she said, giving him a small smile before she turned on her heel and walked towards the exit of the salvage yard.

"Now hold on a minute," Dean said, striding forward and gripping her arm, spinning her around to face him. Her eyes narrowed on him before looking down at his hand encasing her wrist and she looked back up at him.

"If you want to keep that arm I suggest you remove it from my person," she warned with a tone that was too calm to not be frightening.

"You said you won't use dark magic," he spat at her.

"I don't need magic to remove your hand from your body," she promised. He seemed to understand that she wasn't bluffing and he let go of her and stepped back, but still blocked her from leaving.

"If you know where these people are, we're coming with you."

"No,"

"It's our case,"

"It was mine first,"

"We know more about this than you."

"No, you don',."

"Eleven deaths in four months, in three different States," he said smugly.

"Actually, it's now twenty-seven deaths in nine months and in five different States," she corrected with a straight face. They all stared at her in surprise at the news, clearly not knowing the full scale of how serious it was. "Do you know the victims status? I do. The twenty-four victims before last night, six of them were Squibs, four of them Muggleborns and the remaining fourteen were muggles. I can't be sure about the latest victims until I see the bodies and run some diagnostic spells."

"So that's where you're heading then, to the victims," Dean said smugly.

"Hermione, I think it's best that you partner up with Dean and Sam on this one," Bobby suggested. She turned her eyes to him, a look of betrayal and annoyance in her expression. "Look, how do you plan to get there; it's five hours from here?"

"Yeah, you going to fly on your broom?" Dean spoke snidely.

She frowned. "No, I hate flying and prefer to keep my feet firmly on the ground, even though flying would be faster but brooms aren't all that comfortable and it'd still take a couple of hours travel time. Not to mention, it's broad daylight, I don't trust brooms and I _hate_ flying."

"Wait, you actually have brooms?" He said, his dislike for her taking a backseat as it was replaced with amusement.

"Yes, but as I said, I hate flying. I can't apparate since I don't have a destination in mind, I have to have been to a place before or be able to visualise it. I can't use the floo network since I'm in the Muggle World and there isn't likely to be a floo I can use, and I can't port-key as I don't have a specific and safe port-keying point. And I can't drive as I have a British license and it's dodgy at best."

"That settles it then, you three _are_ working together," Bobby spoke, there was no room for argument as he turned and headed into the house.

She sighed. "I need to leave now, the Death Eaters have likely already moved on and the longer I'm here, the further away they get, the harder it is to track them and the more people that are in danger."

"We'll be ready in five minutes," Sam promised before turning and heading for the house. Dean stared her down before slowly turning and following after his brother.

Hermione rubbed her hand over her face and sighed. "Well, at least they're Winchesters," she muttered to herself, trying to find the positive side of having no choice but to work with the Hunters.

Exactly five minutes later found Hermione standing by the Impala and she was sheathing her wand back into her boot. Hermione knew she would be forced to sit in the back of the car and she knew there wouldn't be much room and so she placed a quick Enlargement Charm on the back seat, making it wider and longer, perfect for her to place down books on either side of her. She was careful to keep the magic away from the engine and radio so that it didn't interfere with them, not wanting to give Dean another reason to hate her.

"Let's go," Dean said gruffly as he walked past her to the driver's side without sparing her a glance.

Sam rolled his eyes before gesturing for Hermione to follow him around to the passenger's side; she climbed into the back seat and was very comfortable and pleased with the improvements she'd made.

"What the hell did you do to my baby?" Dean demanded, his eyes shone with fury and he gripped the steering wheel tightly, meanwhile, Sam looked impressed with her improvements.

"I enlarged the back seat so I would have room to research during the journey. Don't worry, the charm hasn't and won't damage the leather of the seats and if we were to get pulled over, a quick counter charm will reverse the magic and it will return to normal," she explained with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Come on, Dean, you have to admit that it's kind of awesome, just think, no more neck ache after falling asleep," Sam grinned and Dean glared at him.

"If you have damaged her in any way, I _will_ gank you and I don't care what it will mean to your people."

She didn't look bothered by his words in the slightest and it only annoyed him further whilst amusing Sam.

"Fair enough, but don't forget my best friend defeated the darkest wizard to have existed and he _will_ come after you should anything happen to me and it be your fault."

Sam chuckled at her and Dean's glare hardened before he turned back around, turned on the ignition and they set off on the five-hour journey. Hermione hoped it would go by quickly.

"So, what can you tell us about the other victims?" Sam asked.

They heard shuffling and when they looked behind them it was to see Hermione shuffling through a stack of files which were spread across her lap before she passed them forward. They didn't bother asking where she'd gotten them from, Sam taking them from her and opening the first file, his eyes scanning and taking in the information it held.

"No obvious links between victims, I think the muggles were chosen at random, likely just seen and the others were likely just stumbled upon by accident and the dickhead's wouldn't pass up that opportunity. Crime of opportunity, as I explained, Muggleborns, Squibs and Muggles are all vermin to Death Eaters. Luckily for us, they're running."

"And how does that make us lucky?" Sam voiced, his attention still on the files in his hands.

"If they're running it means they know I'm onto them, they're scared, particularly of me."

"And why would they be scared of you?" Dean muttered.

"I have a reputation, just as you do with demons."

"You're that good?" Sam questioned, sounding impressed.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Depends who you ask, I suppose. Ask anyone under my command and they'll shower me with praises and gush like someone meeting there idol," she spoke with a slight sneer. "They bloody worship the ground I walk on and it pisses me off, I'm no one special, I'm just doing my job; I'm not a bloody God and they can't seem to understand that. Most of them just stare at me when I call the quarterly meetings back in England. If they weren't good at their jobs and have the training and qualifications they do, I would never have hired half of them just based on the fact they couldn't stop asking for my bloody autograph," she huffed and crossed her arms, leaning back against the seat.

Sam chuckled and she looked up, catching Dean's eyes in the rearview mirror; he was smirking at her and she scowled and looked away in a huff.

Sam's chuckles suddenly stopped. "Rebecca Francis," he said quietly.

Hermione nodded and sat forward. "Yes, she was only five-years-old. Her Grandmother was looking after her whilst her parents went away for their anniversary. When they returned the next morning, it was to see both Rebecca and the Grandmother, Margaret, dead. There were no obvious signs of trespassing or foul play, they just died," she trailed off.

"There's something you're not telling us," Sam spoke quietly, turning to look back at her, her eyes met with his hazel ones. She shook her head in denial. "Yes, there is, we're supposed to be helping each other with this case, what is it that you're hiding from us?"

Dean pulled over the car at the side of the quiet road and he turned in his seat to face her. His green eyes locked onto hers and she felt her resolve breaking.

"Tell us, Witch," he demanded.

She looked away from them and gazed out of the window, her eyes locking on the trees and searching for what she knew the darkness hid from her view.

"Aside from the dark mark, -the snake and skull marking, it's the emblem of him, Voldemort- diagnostic spells that I cast showed residual magic on all of the victims. Two spells had been used, _Crucio_ and _Avada Kedavra_ , the Torture Curse and the Killing Curse. Rebecca and Margaret were the first victims to come onto our radar, we backtracked to six murders, all under the same circumstances but seeing as there were only eight murders and we weren't sure if the same person was responsible, taking that into account, and the fact that I was already working on four other cases with more victims and crueller means, I had to put it on the back burner, but I had some of my agents keep track of things for me. When I finally closed my cases I turned my attention to this one. I've officially been working it for just over a week but I've been having it tracked for the last nine months."

"They tortured a five-year-old girl," Sam muttered, horrified by the revelation.

She nodded. "They did, I told you, the people that I deal with, Death Eaters, you have no idea what they're capable of and if we are to be working together, I need you to take into account everything I say. I need you to listen to me; if I tell you to duck, you do it, if I tell you to hide, you do it, if I tell you to leave and save yourselves, you do it. Understood?" She questioned, looking to them both expectantly.

"I don't think..." Dean started, but Sam cut him off.

"Understood," he promised.

"You might not trust me but trust when I say I don't want any harm to come to you, the world needs you, just as the Wizarding World needs my department. We are the line between life and death, we take down monsters and we make the world a safer place, there are people that can take my place if anything were to happen to me, but you, you're _the_ Winchesters, no one can compare to what you have done for the world, I will protect your lives with mine if I have to."

Sam turned around and looked away from her, Dean continued staring at her with an unknown emotion crossing his face before he turned around and cleared his throat, turning the ignition back on and continuing on their journey.

"Why did the coroners not pick up on the torturing aspect?" Dean asked.

"They wouldn't, they're muggles. The Cruciatus Curse was created to cause a person unimaginable pain, it only causes physical injury if it's used for long periods of time or the person casting it isn't particularly skilled in it. These Death Eaters, they're likely younger than us, still learning the ways of dark magic, amateurs, and they don't know what they're doing. Not unlike Bellatrix Lestrange, that crazy bitch had perfected The Cruciatus by the time she was twenty, she even used it on her own husband, not that he was much better as a person either. But, The Cruciatus Curse is useful, too; it gets a person to reveal information, secrets and if they aren't killed but released, there's no evidence of what happened to them, not unless diagnostic spells were cast, and the spell for detecting residual magic from an Unforgivable was only invented six years ago, the war was over by then."

The only sound was that of the radio playing in the background.

"So you can create your own spells?" Sam asked her conversationally, deciding it was time to take a break from the horror that was the case.

"Yes, it's very difficult. It requires a brilliant mind, someone with an understanding of magical theory and practice, someone that is a prodigy in Ancient Runes, Languages and Spell Crafting. You have to have a workspace, you have to have a mentor which in itself is difficult to find; it's tricky to have your spell approved by the Ministry without having another Spell Crafter to vouch for you. You also have to have the patience to carry out research and to create the spell. The diagnostic spell for the Unforgivables was first attempted in the seventies and it took over two decades to perfect the spell, Spell Crafting is a very complex occupation. Saying that, you do get the rights to the spell as well as going down in magical history if the spell is popular and useful. You earn a big pay bonus, too, if the spell is taught in magical schools."

"Have you ever created a spell?"

"I wouldn't be considered the Brightest Witch of the Age if I hadn't," she rolled her eyes at the title.

"You've created your own spell?" Dean asked sceptically.

She nodded. "Yes, it took me bloody ages, too, though it was easy to find a mentor given that my name carries a lot of weight in the Wizarding World. I received many owls with letters expressing interest after word got out that I needed a mentor. In the little free time I had between cases, running the department and training new recruits, I managed to create a couple of spells."

"What do they do?" He asked intrigued.

"If you're nice to me maybe I'll show you," she replied. Sam chuckled and Dean scowled at her.

Dean turned up the radio before changing the song. It was half an hour later when Sam was the first to speak.

"Hey, Hermione?" He turned when she didn't answer.

Hermione was sleeping peacefully, lying down on her side with her legs pulled up onto the seat and it was then that Sam noticed the dark bruises under her eyes, a clear indication that she was exhausted. He reached over and turned the radio down as to not disturb her when she clearly needed her sleep.

"Hey, I was listening to that," Dean complained. Sam shushed him and gestured behind him to Hermione with a tilt of his head. Dean frowned and twisted to look over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the road ahead. "So the witch is asleep, got any iron or is it all in the trunk?"

"Dean!" Sam hissed in warning.

"What?" He said innocently.

"What is your deal with her? Why can't you be nice to her?"

"She's a witch," he stated, as if that explained everything.

"She saved our lives and she's been nothing but truthful with us. You shot her and all she did was send a few birds to attack you, if it was me I would've killed you. You heard about her past and before you say she could've been lying, she wasn't, that book she gave me to read mentioned her, everything she told us was the truth. She's been nothing but understanding to your dislike for witches and she's not evil. Cas is her angel, even Bobby likes her, so why can't you trust her?"

"She's a witch," he repeated.

Sam made a sound of frustration and ran a hand through his hair. "And we're Hunters, she can't change who or what she is, just as we can't. She said that she would give her life to protect ours, how many witches do you know would do that? None, because we've never met someone like her before. Now get over it, be nice to her, she made you pie, that alone should make you like her. Who was the last person to make you a damn pie?"

"But..."

"Shut it before I take a knife to the seats."

"Keep your panties on, and you put a knife anywhere near my car and I'll make your life so miserable you'll wish that you were trapped in the cage with Michael and Lucifer," Dean promised.

Sam snorted at him. "Just be nice to her and don't wake her, I don't think she's sleeping."

"And you care why?"

"I'm not sure, there's something about her, something that draws you in."

"You just think she's hot."

"So do you, I've seen you practically drooling over her when you think no one's looking," he smirked.

"Shut it, Sammy!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

An hour later Dean pulled over at a gas station and while he was filling up the tank, Sam turned to Hermione.

“Hey, Hermione,” he called, but she didn’t wake.

He shifted in his seat and turned to reach back, as soon as his hand was about to touch her shoulder, she bolted upright and had her wand pressed against the side of his throat. His eyes widened and he felt fear flood through him at the feral look in her eyes.

She blinked several times before gasping and removing her wand from against his throat. “I’m so sorry, Sam,” she said, her eyes full of shame and practically begging for forgiveness.

“It’s alright; I guess I should’ve been more careful, I forgot that you’re a war veteran. Next time I’ll be more cautious, it wasn’t your fault, honestly. I’m glad to see that you’ve got sharp reflexes though.” She slowly nodded and put her wand back in her boot. “We’re stopped at a gas station, I thought I’d wake you in case you needed the bathroom.”

“Thank you, I’ll be right back.”

She climbed over the seat and stepped out of the car, she noticed Dean watching her from the corner of her eyes but ignored it as she headed to the bathroom and she didn’t bother looking disgusted at the state of it, she’d seen her fair share of horrifying restrooms and surprisingly, this one didn’t even come close to the one in Charlie Weasley’s old bachelor pad.

She cast a Cleaning Charm on the toilet before quickly relieving her bladder and moving to the sink to wash her hands. She pressed the cold water against her face to help calm her down. She looked at herself in the mirror and she saw the haunted look in her eyes.

Memories, they wouldn’t leave her alone, she was careful with how much Dreamless Sleep she ingested, no more than two a week in fear of becoming addicted. When she didn’t take the potion, she either didn’t sleep at all, got drunk and passed out or only managed sleep for a few hours before her memories were too much for her to handle and she woke. For that reason Hermione was tired, she was tired all the time but she had learned to live with it. She could function on a lot less sleep than a regular person, unlike Ronald who needed a good ten hours before he even contemplated getting out of bed, she could go with a mere three hours.

She sighed before grabbing a paper towel to dry her face and hands and she pulled her beaded bag out of her boot before finding some American money which she placed in the pocket of her jeans, she repositioned her beaded bag and then left the bathroom, heading into the building since she was starving.

She quickly purchased several bottles of water, three sandwiches and a bag filled with chocolate and sweets, enough to have her parents rolling in their graves. With a smile and a kind farewell to the old man behind the counter, she left out the door and headed back to the car. Dean was leaning against the side of the car, obviously waiting for her to get in before he did himself.

He had a scowl on his face, she suspected he tried to leave without her and Sam had blatantly refused. She smirked and Dean’s scowl deepened when he quickly caught on that she knew what his plan had been. She climbed over the seat and plopped herself down comfortably and she noticed Sam shaking his head and giving Dean a knowing look.

Hermione knew that Dean had been staring at her arse during her trip into the back seat, she could feel his eyes on her and her smirk widened. He made a sound of irritation when once more he realised that she’d been onto him and she knew exactly what he’d done.

They pulled out of the station and continued on their journey.

“I’m starving so I bought food, I have water and chocolate and other sugary goodness, and I wasn’t sure which sandwiches you would prefer so I just picked at random,” Hermione spoke, they both turned to look back at her surprised that she had bought them food. “BLT, chicken salad or chicken and bacon, fight amongst yourselves, boys,” she said, picking the BLT for herself and passing forward the other two sandwiches.

She chuckled as Dean reached for the chicken and bacon and Sam reached for the chicken salad, both of them having done so without even glancing at one another, as though they both knew what the other would prefer which she supposed, as brothers who spent so much time with another, they did. She sat back and made herself comfortable before she opened the packaging on her sandwich and she quietly ate in silence.

Two hours later found them all pigging out on the chocolate and sweets she had bought, half of the supplies already eaten.

“You know, muggle confectionary is nice, but wizarding is better,” Hermione mused.

“You have your own foods?” Dean asked. He seemed to have calmed and he was even being nicer to her.

She was quickly learning that a well-fed Dean was a nicer Dean, though she couldn’t judge seeing as she was the same. She was a bitch when she was starving, even she could admit to that.

“Yes, well, we still eat some of the foods you do, but we do have our own foods, drinks and confectionery. There’s this shop, Honeydukes, it’s in this Wizarding Village, Hogsmeade, which is located not far from Hogwarts making it popular with the students. Anyway, it’s the best confectionery shop in the world, well, at least I think it is,” she shrugged. “We have Bertie Bott’s every flavour beans, they’re basically jelly beans and when they say every flavour they mean it. Ronald got a haggis flavoured one once, whilst Harry got a treacle tart one and unfortunately, I found myself eating a vomit flavoured one. Then we have Chocolate Frogs, it’s charmed so that when you open the package it’s a real-life frog and you have to catch it before it escapes and then it turns into chocolate you can eat, you get trading cards with famous witches and wizards on that people exchange and collect, there’s thousands of them. And we have Toothburners which are seriously strong mints, Ice Mice, Acid Pops, Cockroach Clusters, Cauldron Cakes, I could go on forever; we have hundreds of different products.”

“What’s your favourite?” Sam asked her.

“Sugar Quills,” she answered without thought. “It’s basically nothing but sugar formed in the shape of a quill. I eat them every day; I’m kind of obsessed with them,” she admitted and Sam shook his head at her.

It was close to three hours later when they drove past the sign that said, “Welcome to Hulett.”

“Where exactly are we?” Hermione asked confused.

“Hulett,” Sam shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. “I know that, I saw the same sign you did, Prat. I meant what State are we in?”

“Wyoming, it’s a western US State known for Yellowstone National Park, Mountain Ranges, Rivers and Valleys.”

“You’re better than any search engine,” she grinned at him and he laughed at her, shaking his head.

“We’ll stop at the closest motel we can find, who knows how long we’ll be here for, and we should all get some sleep before we move on,” Dean said and they agreed with him.

It was fifteen minutes later when Dean pulled into the car park of the first motel they found. Whilst Dean and Sam busied themselves with removing their things from the boot of the car, Hermione climbed out and made her way to the front desk. It wasn’t a very nice place, which gave her little hope for having a decent room.

The hideous floral wallpaper was peeling at the walls and seemed to have lost its colour, she could imagine it once being bright and cheerful but now it looked stained and depressing. There were several notices on the walls outlining the expected behaviour and what would not be tolerated from occupants, as well as events happening around town, though some were dated back years. The window that offered some protection to the person behind it from potential harm, was dirty and smudged, it likely hadn’t been cleaned in years and Hermione had to restrain herself from casting a Cleaning Charm.

Behind the counter sat a teenager, his attention was on his phone, no doubt playing some ridiculous, mind rotting game. He reminded her a little of the Weasleys with his bright red hair that covered his ears, a smattering of freckles on his straight nose and cheeks, and he was pale-skinned with bright blue eyes. From what she could see, he was wearing simple blue jeans and a t-shirt with a band logo on, one that she had never heard of before.

She cleared her throat and leaned against the counter to gain his attention. The teen looked up, his eyes locked on her and his mouth dropped open.

“Hello, I was wondering if you had two rooms available,” she said with a kind smile.

He slammed his mouth closed and gulped, his eyes trailing from her face, down her body and lingering on her breasts before continuing down to her hips and trailing back up since the counter hid the rest of her. Though his eyes didn’t move back to her face, they stayed on her breasts which could be seen slightly through her shirt which clung to her form due to the way she was lounging against the counter.

“Hey, Sweetie, my eyes are up here,” she said. She had a stern look on her face but she was dying to laugh, the poor boy blushed bright red, a shade she’d never seen Ron turn.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered.

She chuckled and shook her head. “No problem, do you have two rooms available?” She asked kindly.

The teenager turned and started typing away at a computer which she couldn’t see since it was hidden from her view.

“W-we only have one room available,” he said.

She sighed. “That’s fine, my friends and I will just have to share.”

“How long do you wish to stay?”

She smiled at him. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be here for, we’re just passing through,” she replied with a thoughtful frown crossing her face. “Let’s make it three days,” she nodded to herself before pulling out the correct amount to cover their stay and leaving a tip for the boy.

“Room 7B, it’s on the first floor to the left.”

“Thanks, Kid,” she said, turning to leave and heading out of the door, making her way over to the car. Dean was leaning against the Impala and chatting to Sam when they noticed her nearing.

“Come on then, Winchesters, let’s get everything sorted so I can go to the morgue and see the relatives of the victims.”

“We’re coming with you,” Dean spoke, though he followed her as she made her way to their room.

“That’s fine,” she shrugged and she walked up a metal staircase and continued along the corridor until she reached the room.

After opening the door she stepped inside, the two brothers following her. She looked around and grimaced. She was right; the room was far from immaculate. The wallpaper was a muddy brown, she wasn’t sure if it that was the original colour or if it had once been cream, she preferred to think it was the former. The carpet was a dirty grey colour and she could still see muddy footprints covering the fabric and her face contorted in disgust.

The room didn’t hold much, just a double bed with greying sheets, two bedside tables with a lamp on each surface, a chest of drawers and a small round table with two chairs tucked beneath.

“Lovely place,” she drawled.

“I’ll admit, we’ve stayed in some dodgy places but even those were better than this,” Sam pulled a face and she snorted.

“Where’s our room?” Dean questioned, leaning back against the closed door with his hands in his jacket pockets.

“You’re looking at it,” she replied.

“Then where’s your room?”

“You’re looking at it,” she repeated.

“What?” He questioned with a frown.

“There was only one room available, so we’re sharing,” she shrugged. “I put down payment for three days, whether we stay for that long or not. I felt bad for embarrassing the kid behind the counter.”

“Why?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I caught him trying to look down my shirt,” she shrugged. “ _Twice_ , actually,” she amended and Sam snorted at her.

“How the hell are we supposed to share one room? There’s three of us,” Dean spoke.

“Well spotted,” Hermione praised, causing Sam to laugh as Dean glared at them both. “You can sleep on the floor, share the bed or sleep in your car, I don’t care which.”

She then pulled her wand from her boot and started muttering under her breath, waving it in intricate patterns and motions. They watched as the carpet suddenly became cleaner, it was still a dirty grey but the footprints were no longer there and the bedding disappeared before being replaced with brilliant white bedding and new pillows. Another wave of her wand had the room filling with a cloud of purple smoke, causing the brothers to cough before it vanished into thin air. With a final incantation, Hermione banished the horrid smell from the room and it now smelt like a field of flowers. She smiled to herself and looked at her new surroundings, feeling much happier.

“What did you just do?” Dean asked her, looking around the now cleaner and better smelling room.

“Cleaned up, I fumigated the room as a precaution, there is not a chance in hell, I’m letting anything bite me in my sleep.”

“That’s amazing,” Sam spoke awed.

“It was nothing, just a simple House-cleaning Charm I learned when I was sixteen. Now, I’m going to freshen up and then get changed, I want to see the relatives of the victims first.”

“How do you expect to talk to them?” Dean asked her.

“The same way you do. I must admit, I’ve heard of your aliases, the Priest was my favourite, ingenious,” she winked at them before turning and walking to the room that undoubtedly held the bathroom.

It was just as horrid as the rest of the room and with a fear of catching an illness; she used a Cleaning Charm to clean the mirror, sink, toilet and shower, before digging through her beaded bag and summoning a change of clothes. When she exited the bathroom it was to see Dean and Sam sat at the table, Sam’s laptop was powered up whilst Dean looked bored as he stared down at the surface of the table.

Dean looked up and she saw his eyes widen before he gained control of himself. She was wearing a white blouse that clung to her frame, showing her curves and the form of her breasts, the first couple of buttons were left undone showing off her delicate skin and collar bone. She wore black suit pants that clung to her bum and legs and she carried a black blazer over her arm and a pair of black heels in her hand, walking out of the room in bare feet.

“Do you have fake ID?” Sam asked her, not looking up from his screen.

“Yes, I do, I only need one.”

“How so?” That caught his attention and he looked up at her, cocking his head to the side.

“It’s charmed; it shows the viewer what I want them to see. That way I only have to carry one around with me and there’s no chance of using the wrong one by mistake. I got the idea from a British Sci-Fi TV show, Doctor Who,” she shrugged. “Okay, boys, you’re up.”

Sam stood, grabbed his duffle bag and headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Hermione dropped her shoes on the floor before slipping her foot into the right one, bending over slightly to tie the buckle around her ankle, then moving onto the left one and doing the same.

“Enjoying yourself?” Hermione asked politely. She could feel Dean’s eyes on her and when she turned her head she caught him staring at her arse. He scowled at her. “Twice in one day, aren’t I lucky?” She teased and he crossed his arms and before she could further her teasing, Sam exited the bathroom wearing a black suit with a white shirt, a black tie and black dress shoes. Dean stood, grabbed his duffle bag and stormed to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind.

Hermione burst out laughing.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sam asked confused.

“I caught him staring at my arse,” she answered.

Sam snorted, not looking the least bit surprised. When Hermione saw that Sam’s tie was askew she shook her head and chuckled fondly, walking over to him. She stopped in front of him and proceeded to fix his tie for him.

“The amount of times I do this for the men in my life is ridiculous, Harry was useless at it seeing as he never had a reason to wear a tie. The Weasley men were worse never having the need for a tie seeing as they grew up in the Wizarding World, and wizards don’t wear ties to functions, they were dress robes, slightly fancier and more expensive than your everyday robes. There,” she tucked his tie behind his suit jacket and stepped back smiling. “Very handsome,” she complimented.

“Thanks,” he grinned.

Dean stepped out of the bathroom wearing exactly the same as Sam, though he was pulling at his tie and muttering under his breath, struggling to do the knot correctly. Hermione chuckled and walked over to him, slapping his hands away from the tie and she took it from him, placing it under the collar of his shirt and beginning to tie it.

“What’re you doing?” He mumbled.

“Your tie, I thought that it was obvious,” she rolled her eyes. “Stay still, otherwise, I’ll do a Sticking Charm on you, rooting you to the spot,” she threatened. He grumbled but allowed her to continue.

When she was done she tucked the tie behind his jacket and brushed at his shoulders, removing some dust and she took a step back and nodded to herself.

“See something you like, Sweetheart?” Dean smirked, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“I did,” she smiled, “Until you opened your mouth,” she turned and then grabbed her wand, tucking it under her sleeve as Sam laughed loudly. “So, shall we head out? I’m starving and I want to get some food after we’re done.”

“You ate in the car,” Sam said, surprised at her announcement.

“That was four hours ago, Sam,” she said outraged, “I need feeding, you can’t expect a sandwich and a few chocolate bars to tie me over for the rest of the night. Besides, I want some pie.”

She turned and made her way to the door, oblivious to the way Dean was staring at her in a newfound appreciation.

“She’s practically you in female form,” Sam teased as they followed after her and he closed the door behind him.

“Shut it, Sammy,” Dean muttered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

"This is it, pull over here," Sam spoke, gesturing to the front of a two-story house. It was your typical suburban house, with a driveway and perfectly mowed lawn.

They all climbed out of the car and Hermione walked up the driveway and to the door, pressing the doorbell. A woman who looked to be in her late forties, with blonde hair and brown eyes answered the door.

"Hello," Hermione smiled kindly. "I'm FBI Agent Jenny Morgan and these are my colleagues, Agents Kyle Reed and Parker Banks," she showed the woman her ID, knowing that it would confirm what she had just told her, and the two brothers did the same. "I was wondering if we may have a moment of your time to ask a few questions regarding, Jack Binns."

"Of course," the woman stepped aside to let them in and she led them down a hallway, through a living room and into a kitchen. "Karen, these are FBI agents, they want to ask you some questions about Jack," the woman spoke softly.

The woman that was sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands looked up and the moment she did her eyes widened. She had greying blonde hair, pale skin and brown eyes which were puffy and red.

"Karen, please will you pick Henry up from soccer practice?" She spoke, her voice sounded hoarse, her puffy red eyes locked on Hermione.

"Of course, I'll take him to that cafe he likes for dinner before bringing him home."

"Thank you," she whispered. Karen smiled at her before grabbing her jacket from the kitchen chair and her bag from the table and leaving the room. When they heard the door close Hermione stepped forward.

"Ms. Binns, I am FBI Agent Jenny Morgan and these are..."

"No, you're not," she spoke.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said confused and she felt Sam and Dean stiffen behind her.

"You're not FBI Agent Jenny Morgan."

"I assure you, Ma'am..."

"Your name's Hermione Granger."

Hermione froze. "How do you know that?" She asked quickly, her hand coming up to her sleeve where her wand was hidden.

"I've seen photos of you and read articles about you in that magical newspaper," she said tiredly.

"You're not a witch," Hermione stated, she knew that she wasn't; there was no magical aura surrounding her.

"Jack was a wizard."

"A Muggleborn?" Hermione asked softly, her hand coming away from her wand.

"Yes, a Muggleborn, just like yourself."

Hermione moved forward and gestured to a seat, she nodded and Hermione sat down opposite the woman. Sam and Dean moved closer but did not sit. They silently agreed to let Hermione take the lead, seeing as it seemed as though the victim was a wizard.

"Jack loved you," she said fondly, tears gathering in her eyes. "He said he wanted to be just like you. All I heard from him was how one day he would meet you and ask for your autograph, one day he would be like the great war heroine, Hermione Granger. At least I can have pride in knowing that my son's idol was you and that he strived to be like someone with great achievements and morals." Tears fell from the corners of her eyes and trailed down her cheeks and she reached up to wipe them away. "If you're here I assume it means Jack didn't die of natural causes."

"We don't believe that, no. We can't be sure of anything until I'm able to cast diagnostic spells but what I will tell you is that I am currently investigating a series of deaths I have linked to a group of Death Eaters."

"The war is over, is it not?" She asked confused.

"It is, however, there will always be people that believe in the old ways, some more than others; some do it in private whilst others do it in public. Many of the Death Eaters from both the First and Second War are either dead or carrying out a life sentence in prison but there are a few that have managed to escape capture and we are still searching for them. There are no longer Death Eaters in Britain and Europe, they fled around the continents and we believe they are recruiting as they plan to overthrow the government once again. I assure you, we will not allow this to happen. We have allies in many places and we are prepared if that may come to pass. Our numbers outweigh theirs considerably, we're talking two-thirds of Britain alone, and that's not counting Europe, Asia, South and North America, Africa and Australia. If it comes to light that your son was indeed a victim and murdered, I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure he gets justice for what was done to him. I will not rest until the people responsible are caught, and when that happens, I will personally visit to give you the news."

The woman cried a little harder and gave a sniffle as she once more wiped her cheeks clean of tears. "Thank you, Miss. Granger. I can see why my son admired you so."

"Thank you, I hope I was a worthy role model for him," she responded softly.

"I assume there are other victims," she sniffled.

"Unfortunately there are, we have Muggleborns like myself and your son, we have muggles like yourself and we have Squibs, magical folk born without magic. We're not sure if these are targeted attacks or just random, we have no apparent connection between victims. If you don't mind, I would like to ask you some questions; it could help with my search."

"Anything you need," she nodded, adjusting her sitting position and a look of determination to help crossing her face.

Hermione smiled at the grieving mother before she began her questioning, asking about Jack's daily routine, who his friends were, his hobbies and interests, if he had been acting strangely and things along those lines.

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Binns," Hermione pushed her chair away from the table and stood up, the mother did so, too. "My colleagues and I had better leave so we may continue with our investigation."

"Before you go, would you mind signing a few of Jack's things? He would never forgive me for meeting you and not asking."

"It would be my pleasure," Hermione spoke with a kind smile. The mother nodded before leaving the room to retrieve the items.

"So, the victim was a wizard," Dean stated with a crease in his forehead and his hands in his trouser pockets.

Hermione sighed. "Yep, he was only two years younger than me," she frowned. "I'm getting sick of these bastards always being five steps ahead of me, it's time that I stopped messing around and get this case solved." A look of resolution settled over her face and a fierce look entered her eyes. Sam nodded approvingly and Dean tilted his head to the side in consideration as he watched her closely.

"Here we are," the mother entered the room and placed the items on the table. There was a copy of _Hogwarts, a History_ , a few photographs from a photoshoot she'd been asked to do after the war and a stuffed otter at which she smiled when she saw it.

"Not many people know my Patronus is an otter," Hermione commented.

"As I said, Jack idolised you. He was applying to do training for the magical police, he was a mechanic just earn some money so he could visit England and hopefully meet you," she said quietly.

"I promise you, Ms. Binns, your son will one day meet me," she said, receiving a look of confusion. "He will see me in the afterlife, it exists for witches and wizards, and when my time comes, I will spend it in the afterlife searching for your son until he has the opportunity to meet me."

"Thank you," she whispered, tears falling down her face once more.

"Your son, Henry, he is ten-years-old, correct?"

"Yes, he is."

"Has he shown any magical potential?"

"There's been a few odd incidences, but there haven't been any for a while, two years or so. Is it possible for him to be a Muggleborn, too?"

"It's uncommon for there to be two Muggleborn siblings, I've only met three in my lifetime, but it can happen. If it would give you peace of mind, I would be happy to return later in the evening and perform some diagnostic spells on Henry, this way you will know for certain."

"I would appreciate that," she mumbled. "Henry is fascinated by you. Jack was always telling him stories about you and reading articles to him that featured you."

Hermione smiled sadly before taking the pen the grieving mother gave her and she signed everything but when it came to the final photograph, she signed it to Henry, making the mother cry harder.

"I'll return later to do the testing," Hermione promised.

The woman nodded through her tears and as Hermione walked past the mother, she placed a comforting hand on her shoulder before leaving the room and letting herself out of the house.

"Well, that was interesting," Dean commented when they were all in the car and free from prying eyes and ears.

Hermione chuckled and shook her head. "Yes, it was," she agreed as she released a sigh and tipped her head back against the seat. "Thank you,"

"For what?" Sam asked confused and they both turned in their seats to look back at her.

"For letting me handle it,"

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "It was you she needed to talk to, not us. We couldn't have done for her what you did. You gave her hope, you gave her son his wish of getting your autograph and you promised to take care of her son's murderer." His tone was different, she noticed. He spoke to her softer; there wasn't a glare or scowl on his face as she was accustomed to being on the receiving end of. He looked at her with something different in his eyes, something she couldn't quite decipher or name.

"Right, let's go, there's two more houses to visit and then we can head to the morgue. Hopefully, the other two victims aren't magical, I don't think I can deal with that again," she sighed, running a hand through her hair tiredly.

"You can," Dean assured her, "You're strong,"

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "What makes you say that?"

He sighed softly and she almost missed it. "Because you are."

He turned back around and faced forward and she caught Sam giving Dean a small smile before nodding to himself, apparently pleased with his brother's words and behaviour.

~000~000~000~

After visiting the families of the other victims, they'd determined they had nothing in common with the rest of the victims, once again, bringing them to a loss on _how_ the victims were chosen. And after visiting the morgue with Hermione casting the diagnostic spells with Dean and Sam keeping a lookout, she'd determined they were definitely muggles. All three victims had the dark mark on their stomachs and they'd been tortured and killed using an _Avada Kedavra_.

Once they were finished at the morgue, darkness had not long since fallen and they returned to the motel, where Hermione crossed to the bed and flopped herself down onto the mattress, bouncing up slightly and then coming to a stop as she pushed her hair out of her face and then spread her arms out wide.

"I'm exhausted; whoever made these things," she lifted her leg and pointed to the heel and glared at it, "Needs drowning in holy water."

Sam laughed as he took a seat at the table and Dean chuckled as he leaned against the closed door and folded his arms over his chest, watching her amused.

"I'm being serious, only someone with demonic blood would create these things, even with Cushioning Charms they bloody hurt. I'm just glad the Balancing Charm works, otherwise, I would've fallen flat on my face hours ago." They snorted at her. "I'd like to see you two try and walk in them, in fact..." She sat up and smiled sweetly, pulling her wand from beneath her sleeve.

They noticed and were promptly on edge, watching her cautiously at the sudden change in her too-sweet-to-be-innocent smile.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked nervously, standing from the chair at the table and taking a subconscious step back from her.

"Nothing," she said lightly, shrugging her shoulders with a little smile. They never saw it coming when she suddenly had her wand trained on them and she promptly transfigured their shoes into heels. They both let out yells and curses as they lost their balance and immediately face planted the floor.

"Men," she rolled her eyes and walked away laughing, receiving curses in reply as she closed the bathroom door behind her.

She quickly changed into a pair of blue skinny jeans, a black form-fitting blouse and a pair of black ankle boots before leaving the bathroom. Dean and Sam had already changed into jeans and shirts and were both scowling at her and she couldn't help her laughing at their none too pleased expressions.

"What? I was merely proving a point," she said innocently, they both looked to another before rolling their eyes. "I'm starving," she commented with a frown.

"You've been saying that for the past four hours," Sam pointed out, sounding amused.

"So feed me then," she argued.

"I thought you wanted to see that kid," Dean reminded her.

She frowned thoughtfully. "Right, we'll see Henry and then you can feed me," she nodded.

~000~000~000~

"You're Hermione Granger, I can't believe Hermione Granger's in my house," the ten-year-old boy spoke with a tone of wonder as he stared at her star-struck. Hermione gave him a friendly smile and noted that he looked a lot like his brother, having the same blonde curly hair, bright green eyes and a similar nose.

Hermione shifted to get more comfortable in her spot on the couch whilst Dean and Sam sat either side of her, Henry sat on the armchair whilst his mother was in the kitchen giving them some privacy so they may talk and Hermione could run the tests.

"Jack loved you, he said you were his favourite person in the world," he spoke, sadness creeping into his voice and he looked down at the ground, fiddling with his fingers.

"I know he did, Henry, and one day we will meet, but for now I am here for you."

His head snapped up. "You are? Why?" He looked confused.

"You know that Jack was a wizard, correct?"

"Yeah, it's so cool," he grinned. "He used to do all these spells and things for me."

"He sounds like a wonderful big brother and I'm sure he's proud of you."

"I wish I was a wizard like him," he pouted.

Hermione smiled, "Henry, that's why I'm here. I've had a chat with your mother and I thought that it would be a good idea to test you."

"Test me for what?" He frowned.

"For magic," she replied, seeing the way his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in surprise before a grin overtook her face.

"You think I could be a wizard like Jack?" He looked excited at the prospect.

"It's not common for there to be two Muggleborn siblings, but it is possible. Your mother said that strange things used to happen when you were younger, but hasn't for a while."

He nodded his head furiously, excitedly. "Yeah, when I was little I would get mad and mom's favourite vase would shatter. Sometimes my action man spoke to me."

"That sounds promising," Hermione mused. "If you don't mind, I'm going to cast a few magical spells on you, they won't hurt; you won't even know that I'm doing it."

"Do you promise it won't hurt?" He said, his voice quieting in nervousness.

"Gryffindor Princess Promise,"

He beamed at her in response. It's was something she used to say to her younger fans not long after the war and he seemed to recognise it, she supposed his brother had taught him it. She noticed Sam and Dean sharing a glance before looking at her confused but neither of them commented on her words.

"Ready?" She asked.

He took a deep breath, sat up straighter and his face set in determination, his brow furrowed. "Ready," he nodded. Hermione chuckled.

She pulled her wand from her sleeve and within five minutes of mutterings and wand-waving, a bright light encased Henry. It started small and quickly grew in size and the brightness of the light became blinding, forcing them to shut their eyes and turn away. When Hermione deemed it safe, she opened her eyes to see the light now a soft blue colour and she flicked her wand.

The soft blue light shrunk in size so that it could fit in the palm of a hand and it hovered above Henry's palm as he stared down at it in awe.

"What does it mean?" He asked.

"It means that you're a wizard, Henry, welcome to the Wizarding World," she grinned at him as he beamed in response. He stood from his seat and jumped at her, hugging her tightly. Hermione chuckled and gently patted his back. "Did your brother tell you about Muggleborns and how they are treated?" She asked him as he pulled back and retook his seat.

"He said that some people don't like us, that we shouldn't have magic."

She nodded and sighed softly. "There are some people that don't like Muggleborns, there are some that may call you names or bully you, but what you have to remember is that you are a wizard just as much as they are. You have magic, they have magic. You are human, they are human. You are equals, no matter how they may treat you or what they may say. And, you've got me on your side, if anyone ever gives you any bother all you have to do is owl me and I'll come to your school and set the little monsters straight," she promised and he laughed at her. "You do know how to use an owl, right?"

"Yeah, Jack used a school owl when he was away but he bought Kara last year," he shrugged.

"I guess that now means she's yours," she smiled. "My owl is called Ricky, he's a bit grumpy, just give him something sugary and he'll be right as rain. If you have any questions or if you just want to talk, you can owl me anytime, it may take a while for me to reply seeing as I'm constantly travelling with my job, but I _will_ reply."

"What do you do?" He asked curiously.

"I'm the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement and Auror Department for the British Ministry of Magic, my job is to capture criminals and magical creatures that escape into this world."

"That's so cool," he grinned. "Someday I want to be just like you."

"If you pay attention in school and work hard, you could very well be."

"I hope so,"

"We better get going, Henry." He looked disappointed but he nodded. "Why don't you tell your mother the good news, and remember, you can owl me anytime."

He beamed, jumped up from his seat and hugged her tightly once more before he ran out of the room, disappearing from sight but not hearing distance and a smile pulled at Hermione's mouth as she heard Henry excitedly telling his mother the good news.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count:8

“Lovely place,” Hermione commented wryly, her eyes scanning the seedy-looking bar they’d decided to stop at for a drink and some dinner before heading back to the motel and calling it a night.

They snorted at her before moving over to the bar, quickly ordering a beer each and then finding a booth in the corner of the room. They weren’t sat long before someone came over to take their order for food.

“Chicken salad,” Sam ordered causing Dean to roll his eyes and Hermione to look at Sam disgusted.

“Double cheeseburger and fries with onion rings on the side, and some pie, whatever you have,” Dean ordered without even glancing at the menu on the table. Sam rolled his eyes and Hermione nodded in approval.

The man, who was dressed in a dark t-shirt and jeans with his dark hair falling into his dark eyes, looked to her questioningly. “Salad?” He guessed with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione was immediately offended.

“A salad? Do I look like a bloody rabbit?” She asked incredulously. Sam stared at her in surprise and laughter fell from Dean as he gave her a look of pride. “No, I don’t want a damn salad, what I want is a double cheeseburger with a side of bacon, actually, better make it two double cheeseburgers,” she amended, “Fries with melted cheese over the top and onion rings, too. If I see one, and I mean, _one_ , lettuce leaf anywhere near my food, you will be wearing it.”

The waiter stared in surprise before his cheeks tinted pink and he turned and rushed off to the kitchens.

“You know, I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship,” Dean grinned.

“Of course, that’s what you bond over, your distinct lack of healthy food. Fine, die of high cholesterol, the both of you, see if I care,” Sam sighed, dropping his chin onto his hands as he propped his elbows up on the table.

“Alright,” they both shrugged before their eyes cut to each other in surprise. Sam shook his head.

“What have I gotten myself into?” He muttered.

“Funny, I said that every day at school after becoming friends with Harry and Ron,” she grinned.

“So, _Gryffindor Princess_ , what is that?” Dean asked, a smirk pulling at his mouth when she sent him an annoyed look.

“It was one of my _many_ known titles given to me by my peers, the media and the public,” she sighed. “Harry is The-Boy-Who-Lived, The-Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn’t-Die, The-Boy-Who-Conquered, The Chosen One and by the Slytherins, he was known as, Potty and Scar-head. At one point in time the bloody school population was filled with idiots and Harry was believed to be the Heir of Slytherin, stupid pricks,” she muttered and Dean snorted in amusement.

“And you?” Sam questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“How long do you have?” She replied, sounding annoyed and he snorted. “Where to start?” She said to herself. “Let’s see, Gryffindor Princess, Golden Girl, Know-it-All, Bookworm, the third member of the Golden Trio, Mudblood,” she spat the word, “Potter’s Bitch, Harlot, Scarlett Woman, Heart Breaker of famous wizards, Little Miss Perfect, ‘Mione by my friends, Hermy by a giant called Gwarp, and by my ex-boyfriend, Viktor Krum, Herm-own-ninny.” Dean burst out laughing. “It’s not funny, he was Bulgarian; he couldn’t pronounce my name properly,” she fumed.

“Was he as good looking as he was eloquent?”

“Whoa!” Sam spoke awed. “My mind is officially blown, Dean used an impressive word and it’s more than two syllables,” he grinned.

Hermione laughed as Dean leaned over and punched Sam in the arm, but Sam just grinned in response, not being bothered by it.

“I’ll have you know that Viktor is _very_ handsome, one of the Wizarding World’s best athletes, too.”

“You dated a professional athlete?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, he was seventeen and I was fifteen. We met when he came to Hogwarts for the tournament, he was the Bulgarian champion,” she shrugged. “He was really sweet, intelligent, too, not to mention he was humble for his status. It was refreshing to meet someone that wasn’t bothered with their fame or mine and Harry’s. At the age of seventeen, Viktor was considered the world’s greatest seeker, and he’d already been playing for the Bulgarian National Team from the age of fourteen.”

They blinked in surprise at that until Dean cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Harlot? Scarlet Woman?” He asked confused.

“Basically a whore,”

“Who would call you that?” Sam frowned.

“Rita Skeeter, the bitch hates me, just as well seeing as I hate her. She’s in prison now, I had her arrested for repeated violation of the law, including trespassing, slander, questioning underage wizards without an adult present, being an illegal Animagus and sympathising with Voldemort. She’s got a lengthy sentence, it didn’t help that she had slandered most of those that were on the jury either.”

“What did she do for you to hate her so much?”

“The Triwizard Tournament, she was the reporter covering it. I was dating Viktor but she made it seem as though I was in a relationship with Harry and cheating on him with Viktor, she made it as if I were playing them off against each other. I was only fifteen and Harry was fourteen. Thanks to her and her lies I was sent hate mail from Harry’s _and_ Viktor’s fans, I ended up in the hospital wing a few times as the letters were laced with dangerous substances which could’ve paralysed me and hurt those around me if I hadn’t acted quickly enough and thrown up a shield.” They looked horrified, well, Sam did, Dean just looked surprised. “That’s why I hate the bitch, well, that and she hurt a good friend of mine, Hagrid. He’s half-giant and she outed him to the world, not to mention the articles she wrote in fifth year about Harry and Dumbledore being liars and faking Voldemort’s return to increase his fame,” she scoffed. “Stupid Twat, that’s why I forced her into Animagus form and kept her locked in a glass jar for two months, I put holes in so she could breathe, I even fed her, which is more than she deserved. When I finally let her out I blackmailed her into writing an article about Harry that was positive and threatened her that she was to never write another article about myself or my pseudo-family. She didn’t take my warning seriously after the war and so I had her arrested and she got life in Azkaban.”

Dean stared in surprise, a look of approval and admiration crossing his face and Sam shot him a knowing look.

“That’s terrifying, brilliant, but terrifying,” Sam spoke.

“I told you I have a reputation, I’m not a witch to be trifled with. I will show you kindness and compassion, but if you fuck with me, I’ll make sure you know that it was the biggest mistake of your life.”

“Noted,” Dean cleared his throat.

“Ah, fuck!” She cursed.

“What is it?”

“I forgot to order pie, I’ll be back,” she stood from the booth and made her way to the bar.

“She’s growing on you, isn’t she?” Sam smirked knowingly.

Dean scowled at him. “Maybe,” he begrudgingly admitted.

“I thought so, although, I thought it would’ve taken you longer to adjust to her, when it comes to the supernatural you’re more closed-minded than I am,” he shrugged. “I guess all it took was her agreeing with you about salad, eating more food than you, loving pie just as much as you, cursing as much as you do and showing kindness to a mother that lost her son, as well as the little brother.”

“She’s not like other witches.” Dean frowned at the realisation that he _meant_ those words. “She practically promised to beat that kid’s future bullies up for him. I’ve never seen a witch do that before, mainly because they’re always trying to kill us.”

“I know; can you feel it, the pull towards her?”

“Yeah, I think I can,” Dean spoke, though his attention was on said witch as she stood at the bar, laughing at something the bartender said before grabbing what appeared to be two beer bottles and a glass of coke.

She plopped them down on the table and sat down in her seat. “One of you two is the designated driver, fight amongst yourselves,” she said, taking a swig from a bottle, leaving only one beer and the glass of coke.

“And why can’t you be the designated driver?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Several reasons, first of all, I don’t think Patrick Swayze over here would let me drive his Baby,” she spoke, making Sam laugh and Dean scowl, but she could see the amusement he poorly hid in his eyes. “Secondly, my license is dodgy since I never actually took my test. Third of all, I don’t know the roads. Fourth reason, we drive on the left in England and that just messes with my head, and lastly, I imagine myself to have fairly bad road rage, no one would be safe with me behind a steering wheel.”

They looked at her appraisingly and then to each other. “I think it’s for the best,” Dean nodded.

“We’ve heard what she can do in anger, better not give her the means to turn someone into roadkill, too,” Sam agreed.

She rolled her eyes and then she sat up when she saw their food being brought over to them. It was placed in front of them and the brothers stared at the amount of food on her plate in surprise.

“Where’s my pie?”

~000~000~000~

Many beers, several slices of pie and three hours later found Hermione and Dean very drunk and an amused Sam, swigging from his coke.

“You know what,” Hermione slurred, “I love you guys, so, so much.” Since she was now sat in-between the two brothers having squeezed her way between them, she had her arms slung over their shoulders and she pulled them into her sides, squeezing them as tightly as she could “I mean, you guys are heroes, you save lives every day and my job would be a whole lot harder if it wasn’t for you, I really love you guys, My Winchesters,” she squeezed them once more.

Sam sniggered and almost spat his coke out.

“I love you, Sammy,” Dean said loudly, nodding to himself. “You are the best little brother anyone could ask for, I love you man.” Sam couldn’t control his laughter even if he tried. “And you, you Little Witch, you’re growing on me, I think we’re going to BFFEID’s!”

Hermione giggled. “What does that mean?”

“Best friends forever even in death,” he stated proudly and she giggled louder.

Suddenly the song being played through the speakers changed and it was one Hermione didn’t recognise.

“I love this song,” she exclaimed loudly.

“Do you even know what it is?” Sam asked amused.

“No, but I love it, let’s dance.”

Hermione stood and pulled Dean with her, dragging him away from the table. Sam shook his head and decided it was best he get them both home before they embarrassed themselves, so he finished the last of his drink and stood.

“Let’s get back to the motel,” he said, stopping them on their journey to the dance floor.

“But I want to dance,” Hermione pouted.

“Me too, don’t be a bore, Sammy,” Dean exclaimed.

“Yeah, Sammy, don’t be a bore.” Hermione crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, going cross-eyed and swaying slightly as if she were about to faint.

“You can dance back in our room,” he suggested. They seemed to think it over before nodding enthusiastically.

“Great idea,” Hermione exclaimed, reaching up to kiss Sam’s cheek before stumbling slightly out of the bar and she was followed by Dean and Sam.

“Keys,” Sam held his hand out as they stood by the car.

“But I wanna drive,” Dean pouted.

“You’re drunk,” Hermione giggled.

“I am not!” He said outraged.

“Touch your nose,” she challenged.

“I can do that,” he scoffed. But he couldn’t and he poked himself in the eye, sending Hermione into a fit of giggles.

“See, you’re drunk,” she said smugly. He scowled at her and she stuck her tongue out at him childishly.

Sam sighed and wrestled the keys from Dean, shoving him into the car and helping Hermione into the back seat before he climbed in the driver’s side and drove them back to the motel.

He took the key from Hermione and she and Dean stumbled into the room, laughing for no apparent reason.

“Where’s the music? I wanna dance,” Dean pouted.

“Bed,” Sam ordered, pointing to the bed.

“But you said we could dance,” Hermione cried.

“I lied,”

“You’re a meanie!” Hermione blew a raspberry, causing both her and Dean to fall into a fit of laughter again.

“Give me strength,” Sam muttered, looking up towards the ceiling, but before he could blink, both Hermione and Dean had collapsed on the bed and were out cold.

Sam stared at them for a moment before he gave his head a shake and then he left the room, locking the door behind him and heading to the car. There was no way he was sleeping on the floor, and thanks to Hermione’s magic, the back seat would be plenty comfortable for him now.

~000~000~000~

The next morning Sam woke on the back seat of the car and surprisingly, it was very comfortable, of which he had Hermione to thank for. He made his way back to the room and he was amused at what he found. Well, amused and slightly shocked.

It seemed that Hermione hadn’t moved during her sleep at all, Dean, on the other hand, had. Hermione was laid on her side facing the bathroom, her hands were tucked under her pillow and her legs were bent and pulled up slightly towards her chest, her breathing was even and deep.

Dean, well that was the comical side; Dean was _wrapped_ around her. The front of his body was pressed up against her back, both of his arms were wrapped around her, clinging to her tightly and he didn’t appear to be letting go anytime soon. His head was pressed into the crook of her neck, his breathing disturbing some of her curls that fanned across the pillow.

Sam shook his head and as he walked past them and to the bathroom, a snort leaving him when he saw the ridiculous smile that graced Dean’s slumbering face. He quickly pulled out his phone and snapped a picture; it was too good an opportunity to miss and great blackmail material.

When he exited the bathroom, showered and dressed in clean clothing, neither Dean nor Hermione had moved. He chuckled and sat down at the table, switching on his laptop and checking for any reports of more victims to keep him occupied whilst he waited for them to wake up with a monstrous hangover. He got his wish an hour later.

“Ow! What the bloody fuck!” He heard Hermione moan, her hand coming up to press against her forehead as if that would stop the headache.

“I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds with a pack of werewolves,” Dean grumbled.

“Dean?” Hermione mumbled.

“What?” He groaned.

“Get off me,” she spoke, but she didn’t sound angry that he was practically suffocating her, more like she was preoccupied with trying to contain the nausea that she was undoubtedly feeling.

“No, I’m comfortable,” he muttered, his grip on her tightening and he snuggled into her further.

“I’m all for a cuddle, Dean, I’m used to it, to be honest with you, what with overly affectionate Weasleys, but if you don’t get off me, I’ll throw up on you and then hex you,” she growled.

“Don’t care, I’m comfortable.”

Sam watched the scene amused, sitting back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest, a smirk on his face and his eyebrow cocked at his brother’s uncharacteristic behaviour.

“Dean, I’d get off her if I were you,” Sam warned.

Dean lifted his head, squinting his eyes against the sunlight that came through the window and he looked at Sam before his head dropped back into place in Hermione’s neck.

“Shove off, Sammy,” he grouched.

“Is that really any way to talk to the best little brother anyone could ever ask for?” Sam smirked.

“Do you have to talk so loud?” Hermione grumbled, “I feel like I’ve been hit by the Hogwarts Express.”

“The what?”

“Train, transportation for students to get to Hogwarts, takes about seven hours travel time,” she mumbled. In her hungover state, she was still a know-it-all, she was just a know-it-all with the temper of an insulted hippogriff. “Dean, this is your last warning, get off me.”

He let out a whining noise of protest but he did remove himself from her, groaning when he rolled over onto his back and he got a head rush, making him feel dizzy and nauseous.

“Fuck this,” Hermione muttered and she slowly sat up and looked around for her beaded bag, her eyes squinting in the light that was hurting her eyes. Why was it so bloody bright!

“What are you looking for?” Sam asked her.

“My bag,”

“Here, I’ve got it.”

Sam picked up the beaded bag that was on the table beside him and he flung it towards her. Dean groaned when the bag landed on his stomach and they heard things clattering from the inside.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

She searched around in her bag before pulling out the vial of blue potion and looking at it lovingly. She downed it in one go and gagged at the taste; it was better to mix it into a drink but she couldn’t wait that long, the hangover was killing her.

The effects of the potion were instantaneous, she immediately felt the headache leaving and the fog clearing in her head, and a few minutes later, she stood from the bed with a smile on her face and she stretched her arms above her head until her back made a satisfying cracking sound.

“How are you perfectly fine?” Dean asked, peering at her with one eye open.

“Here,” she lobbed a vial at him and instead of catching it, it landed beside him.

“What is it?” He asked, eyeing it wearily.

“Just drink it if you want to feel better, I’m going to shower.” She grabbed her bag and headed into the bathroom.

Dean pulled himself up and forced down the nausea before picking up the vial and removing the stopper, downing the blue liquid. He coughed and spluttered. “That’s disgusting,” he complained and Sam snorted. “I feel better, in fact, I feel fine,” he frowned as he stood and stretched his arms out. “What was that?”

“No idea, but don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Seriously, I feel fine, as if I hadn’t had anything to drink at all.”

“Whatever, do you want to talk about why you were keeping the lovely Miss. Granger prisoner?” Sam asked innocently.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean sniffed.

“Hmm, so you didn’t let her go just to annoy her?”

“I was comfortable,” he argued.

“I saw that,” Sam smirked.

“Shut up,”

“In fact, I’ve _never_ seen you so affectionate before,” he mused.

“Shut it, Sammy!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 9

“Right, I want breakfast, anyone else?” Hermione asked as she was ensuring that everything was packed away into her beaded bag.

She was dressed in a simple pair of blue skinny jeans, black boots, a black tank top and a pale pink long-sleeved cardigan that fell to her knees. She threw her hair up on top of her head and secured it with her wand, keeping it within reach but out of sight.

“Now you’re speaking my language,” Dean commented, picking up his duffle bag.

“I’ll check out and meet you at the car, I think we’ve got everything we can from here, we’ll plan our next steps over breakfast,” she said and they nodded in agreement.

Sam and Dean headed to the Impala and Hermione to the front desk where she checked out and assured the blushing teenager behind the counter -and she had once again scolded him for trying to look down her shirt- that she didn’t want a refund for the remaining two days she paid for, and then she handed in the keys and left to the car with a laugh.

“What’s got you cackling like the Wicked Witch of the West?”

Hermione scowled. “I do not cackle.”

“You’re a witch, witches cackle,” Dean shrugged.

“No, they don’t,” she protested, but a memory of Bellatrix Lestrange flittered through her mind and she amended her response. “Alright, _some_ mentally challenged witches cackle, but most don’t, including me.”

“What had you laughing?” Sam questioned, breaking the tension and rolling his eyes at their bickering.

“I caught the kid trying to look down my shirt again,” she grinned and he chuckled at her.

“Come on, let’s go find somewhere to eat, I’m starving and I need caffeine to get me through the day,” Dean spoke.

It didn’t take them long to find a cosy looking diner and they headed inside and took seats at a booth covered in red leather.

“Good morning, I’m Kelly, your server, what can I get for you?”

The short blonde with brown eyes asked in a bored voice. She wore white trainers with a pink waitresses outfit and a white apron, a note pad held in her hand and a pen poised and ready to take notes. Hermione didn’t think she could look any more bored if she tried.

Sam ordered French toast and coffee, Dean ordered coffee and the greasiest thing on the menu and when it came to Hermione’s turn to order, she had to gain the attention of the waitress first, as she was too busy staring at Dean, of who didn’t seem to notice or if he did, didn’t seem to care.

“Hi, Kelly was it? I’ll have a cup of tea and pancakes, I’ll take some chocolate sauce, strawberries, oh, and whipped cream, and I can’t forget the syrup. You know what, I’ll take some bacon and eggs, too.”

Sam and Dean stared at her before snorting and Kelly left with a pout in Dean’s direction, since he hadn’t paid her any attention other than to order his breakfast.

“So, next steps?” Sam prompted.

“They’re not here,” Hermione spoke. “If they were nearby I would’ve gotten a reading on my wand, it’s sensitive to dark magic having been around it most of my life,” she shrugged. “It’s best we leave and head to a different destination.” A thoughtful look crossed her face. “After we’re done here, we should head to a petrol station...”

“Gas station,” Dean cut her off.

“Whatever, Winchester,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “We should head there so I can pick up a map, I’ve tried plotting the deaths on a map to see if there’s a pattern but as far as I could tell there wasn’t, but I think I might’ve just thought of something that might help.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“A way to track them, to find out where they’re heading and maybe we can get there first and set a trap for them.” They looked at her approvingly.

Breakfast arrived and they all ate quickly and before they left, Hermione headed to the counter and pleaded with the elderly woman behind the counter to sell her some tea bags. After five minutes of begging, the woman gave in, though Hermione suspected she was doing it just to get rid of her. With a bag of tea bags, she left the diner a happy woman.

“What’s in the bag?” Sam asked, turning in his seat to look at her over his shoulder.

“Tea bags,” she shrugged.

“Why?”

“I’m British, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a decent cup of tea in this country?” She replied and he chuckled at her before turning back around to face the front.

When they reached the station, Dean put more fuel into the tank and Hermione went through the shop. She wasn’t sure how long they would be on the road for and so she stocked up. She bought a map and a pack of marker pens, some fruit for Sam, a few sandwiches, a pack of cupcakes for herself, a pie for Dean, water and juice and a bag filled to the top with sweets and chocolate. It surprised her how much she knew about the brothers in such little time, such as their preferences for food.

She headed back to the car and Hermione placed the bulging bags of supplies in the back with her, before taking a marker and opening up the map and laying it out on the bonnet of the car.

“Hey, get that off Baby,” Dean ordered with a threatening glance.

“Sorry, Patrick, I forgot that no one touches Baby,” she rolled her eyes and Sam snorted at her. Hermione took off her cardigan and placed it on the car, putting the map on top of it. “There, now Baby won’t get any marks or scratches,” she said, and she took the cap off the marker before beginning to mark off the location of the murders on the map. It took her a few minutes but she did it. “Can you see it?” She asked, stepping back and giving them a better view of the crosses on the map, seemingly in random places.

“No, there’s no pattern, how are we supposed to know where they’re going?” Dean frowned.

“There is a pattern,” she grinned. “It hit me this morning; there was something I hadn’t tried.”

“So what’s the pattern because all I see is a bunch of crosses?”

Her grin widened before she went back to the map and carefully joined the crosses together, like a dot-to-dot puzzle. When she was done she stepped back and they both frowned at what they saw.

“That looks familiar,” Dean tilted his head to the side.

“It should, you’ve seen it before on the victims.”

“It almost looks like that tattoo, just without the skull. The snake is even curled in on itself in the same way.”

“Yes, it’s the dark mark. The emblem of Voldemort, not to mention the snake is the emblem of Slytherin, and Voldemort was his heir. This is definitely the work of Death Eaters. The victims may have been chosen at random, a crime of opportunity, but the locations were most certainly planned.”

“So where’s their destination?”

“If you look, I’ve joined up the dots, but there’s one place missing.”

“Cleveland, Tennessee,” Sam whistled. “That’s a long drive.”

“Hmm,” Hermione hummed. “Just over fifteen hundred miles, I believe. If my calculations are correct it’ll take around twenty-two hours to get there. We’ll be passing through a few States, it’s best if we spend the night in a motel, there’s no point in driving through the night, exhaustion’s not your friend when heading into battle and trust me, it will be a battle.”

“What makes you say that?” Sam asked.

“It’s the last point on the map, their final destination. They’ve killed twenty-seven people in total, three victims in each of the States. They’re completing a ritual, for what I can’t be sure, but this is most certainly human sacrifice. If Cleveland is their last stop, they’ll be killing three more people to complete the ritual, this means that their headquarters is likely there as well. We’ll have to be careful,” she sighed. “This is going to be a pain in the arse,” she groaned.

“How are we going to get there before them, they have a head start on us?”

“True, but I know these people. They would rather die than set foot on muggle public transport and they would never rent a car, seeing as they detest them and they can’t drive. They can’t port-key because you have to have approval for use from the Ministry beforehand and they can be tracked. Apparition can also be tracked, but as I said before, you have to have visited the destination before or at least be able to visualise it. Flooing is also out, that just leaves flying. They wouldn’t risk being caught flying during the day, so they’ll travel at night. Even flying will take hours and they’ll need to stop regularly to rest and sleep, which slows them down. We might not get there before them, but we’ll still get there no more than a few hours after them which is still better than being days behind,” she explained. “Right then, let’s get going, it’s going to be a long drive and I bought supplies.”

“Supplies?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, pie for Dean, cupcakes for me, fruit for you, I also bought sandwiches, drinks, chocolate and plenty of sugary goodness,” she answered. They blinked in surprise at the sheer amount of food she’d purchased.

“I’ve never met a woman that eats as much as you,” Dean spoke with his head tilted to the side, a smirk on his lips.

“Are you calling me fat?” She glared at him.

“No,” he answered immediately, paling slightly and Hermione huffed.

“You better not be, I am not fat, if you grew up with the Weasleys and the Weasley Matriarch, who practically shoves food down your throat the minute you step through the door, then you’d have a big appetite, too. Besides, you think I eat a lot, you should see Ginny, she can out-eat all of her brothers, well, except Ronald, he just devours anything edible in sight,” she shrugged. “Actually, he’s more like a goat, I once saw him eat a piece of paper and a dandelion because his older brother convinced him it was a muggle delicacy, idiot,” she rolled her eyes. She turned and hopped into the car, getting comfortable in the back seat.

“Man, you were so scared of her,” Sam teased through a laugh.

“Shut it, Sammy,” he growled before jumping in the car. Sam had to run to the car before Dean drove off without him.

~000~000~000~

“I’m bored,” Sam whined childishly.

“It’s only been an hour,” Dean muttered, Hermione sniggered.

“Here, Sam.” Hermione dug around in her beaded bag and pulled out a book, handing it to him.

“ _Laws of Conduct When Dealing with Muggles_ ,” he read before looking back at her.

“That book explains wizarding laws and governing contact with muggles, how we work together, what we are and aren’t able to do, how we must treat muggles and the use of magic on muggles,” she explained. “It’s proof that my kind, trueborn witches and wizards, don’t want to harm muggles, we want to live peacefully.”

“How is that possible if magic isn’t allowed to be known?”

“That’s where it gets complicated, the existence of magic is known to some muggles, like the parents, siblings and carers of Muggleborns, it’s known to Squibs and spouses and it’s known to powerful and influential members of the Muggle World.”

“Such as?” Dean asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

“The British Prime Minister, the President of the United States, the Queen of England, the Russian President, the Pope, basically people along those lines. Our Ministries work in conjunction with these people to protect the secret of magic and if there was ever a problem. Such as Sirius Black, when he escaped from prison, the British Muggle Government were alerted and they put out an alert, stating that he was a dangerous mass murderer, though they never mentioned anything to do with magic, just that he was considered to be armed,” she shrugged. “Of course it was a load of bullshit, Sirius suffered a great injustice, he was an innocent man that was framed and he didn’t even get a trial. He died with the world thinking he was a traitor and a murderer. When the war ended Harry and I made sure that he was exonerated and the world knew him for who he truly was. He was a hero and he received an Order of Merlin: Third Class.”

“A what?”

“An award given for tremendous acts towards the Wizarding World.”

“Did you get one?” Dean asked.

“No, I got an Order of Merlin: _First_ Class, the most prestigious and coveted award.”

“What is it exactly?”

“It’s basically the magical equivalent to a Medal of Honour.”

The car swerved as Dean turned to look at her in shock, Sam yelled out in panic and fright and Dean turned and got the car back in their lane before he crashed.

“You have a Medal of Honour? Seriously?”

“Hmm,” she hummed.

“Holy shit,” he muttered in awe.

“Anyway, read that book, Sam, it might help you to understand my people better.” Hermione sat back comfortably. “Hey, turn the volume up, would you? I quite like this song,” Hermione said with her eyes closed.

“You like The Rolling Stones?” Dean looked at her through the rearview mirror.

“Yep, _You Can’t Always Get What You Want_ is one of my favourites. Actually, their album _Let It Bleed_ is one of my favourites all together,” she shrugged.

“Sammy’s reading, he gets bitchy if I disturb him,” he said apologetically.

“I’ve got you covered.” She sat up and waved her wand over Sam who had his head stuck in the book she’d given him, so he didn’t notice. “There you go, I’ve placed a Silencing Charm around him, he won’t be able to hear anything and therefore we can’t disturb him.”

“Alright,” he replied, reaching over and turning the dial until the music was blasting loudly, the speakers almost buzzing in displeasure.

Hermione smiled and sat back, she kicked off her boots and pulled her legs up onto the seat, crossing them and she let her head flop back with her eyes closed. The small and relaxed smile didn’t leave her face and she kept her eyes closed the entire time; she had fallen asleep.

Every so often Dean’s eyes would flicker up to the mirror to look at Hermione, Sam had no idea why he couldn’t hear anything though he guessed Hermione had something to do with it. He was thankful, this way he could read in peace and Dean could listen to his music, everyone was happy. But just because he couldn’t hear didn’t mean he couldn’t see, and he could definitely see Dean watching Hermione through the rearview mirror. He smirked to himself and shook his head, going back to the book.

~000~000~000~

Dean pulled into a gas station for a bathroom break, Sam had fallen asleep, his forehead pressed to the window and the book left open on his lap.

Hermione had moved in her sleep, she was now laying down on her side facing the front, her hands were pillowed under her head and her legs pulled up into her chest. He reached over and shook her shoulder, in hindsight he shouldn’t have done it since he ended up with a wand pressed into his throat.

“Whoa, Flash, it’s only me,” Dean said surprised.

Her eyes were glazed over and her breathing laboured, she blinked and seemed to come back to herself. “Sorry,” she muttered, pulling her wand away from him.

He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, nice reflexes by the way,” he said calmly, though on the inside he’d almost shit himself; that look in her eyes had been scary as hell, and he’d been there for forty years!

“I’ve pulled into a gas station for a bathroom break,” he told her.

“Right, thanks for waking me,” she muttered, not looking at him.

She pulled on her boots before flicking her wand at Sam, removing the Silencing Charm and she woke him up. He jumped and banged his head against the window, causing Dean to smirk and Hermione to giggle. They all left the car and went to the bathroom and not ten minutes later they were back on the road.

“I hate public toilets, infection distributors are what they should be called,” she shivered. They snorted at her. “I’m being serious, do you have any idea of how many Cleaning Charms I cast before I went anywhere near the stall?”

“They are disgusting,” Sam grimaced.

“Right, Sammy, get back to your book, I plan to listen to some Black Sabbath,” Dean spoke.

“What about Hermione?”

“I like Black Sabbath,” she shrugged.

“Of course you do,” Sam muttered, causing Dean to smirk.

“Face it, Sammy, you’re outnumbered.”

“Whatever,” he muttered childishly.

Hermione pulled her wand and cast a Silencing Charm around Sam and she gave Dean a nod to let him know it was done, in response he turned up the volume and they both sat in silence, listening to the music as it blasted through the speakers.

An hour later Dean reached over to turn down the volume and Hermione opened her eyes to see Dean pulling a phone out of his jacket pocket, Hermione cancelled the Silencing Charm around Sam and he looked up from his book at the sound of a ringing phone.

“It’s Bobby, get it for me?”

He passed it back and Hermione flipped the phone open and cleared her throat. “Hello, this is Patrick Swayze’s phone, unfortunately, he can’t come to the phone right now due to his unnatural obsession with Baby, but, I, his personal assistant, the Wicked Witch of the West, would be glad to take a message and pass it along when he’s finished getting Baby out of the corner.”

Dean scowled at her through the mirror and Sam burst out laughing.

“I’m glad to see you haven’t killed each other yet, Missy,” Bobby’s gruff voice came through the speaker.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Bobby, Sam’s a delight, I’m awesome and Dean spends his time making lovey-dovey eyes at the car. Why would we kill each other?”

“Very funny,” he mumbled. “How’s the case going?”

“One of the last victims was a Muggleborn wizard,” she sighed, “The other two muggles. Everything’s exactly the same as the other victims. I believe I’ve found a pattern, we’re on our way to Cleveland, Tennessee as we speak.”

“That’s a long trip.”

“Hmm, don’t worry, I got us covered. I’ve got more food and confectionary to feed a small army, I’ve got my personal library in my beaded bag to keep Sam amused and I’ve been placing Silencing Charms around Sam so Dean can play his music as loud as he wants without causing arguments.”

“And you, how are you doing, Missy?”

She sighed. “Fine, Bobby, just fine.”

“You’re lying to me, I know exactly what happens when you sleep; I’ve witnessed it.”

“It was alright last night, I kind of passed out drunk, I’ve had a couple of mishaps though, scared the life out of them.”

“Know the feeling,” he muttered.

“Anyway, I believe that Cleveland is where we’ll find what we’re looking for, I have a theory that my suspects are planning to carry out a ritual, a ritual that requires thirty victims in total, but they have to be killed in threes.”

“What ritual?”

“I don’t know,” she frowned, “I’m going to do some research before we reach Cleveland, we’ve still got eighteen hours of driving left, not including when we stop at a motel for the night.”

“Alright, Missy, keep me posted and try not to kill Dean.”

“No promises, Bobby,” she chuckled. “He insinuated that I was fat.”

He sighed. “Idjit,” he muttered. “Put Dean on for me, Missy.”

“Hang on,” she passed the phone forward. “He wants to speak to you.”

“Yeah, Bobby?” Dean frowned as Bobby spoke, but neither Hermione nor Sam could hear what Bobby was saying. “Okay, bye, Bobby.” He snapped the phone shut and put it in the glove compartment.

“So?” Sam asked.

“So?” Dean echoed.

“What did he say?” Sam huffed.

“He just told me that he’s tracking a case of suspicious deaths, a case for when we’re done with this one.”

“Alright,” Sam shrugged his shoulders and went back to his book and Hermione re-cast the Silencing Charm for him.

“What did he really say?” Hermione asked him.

Dean locked eyes with her in the rearview mirror. “Exactly that,” he replied.

“You’re lying,”

“Not,”

“Are,”

“Not,”

“Are,”

“Witch!”

“Prat!”

“Demon!”

“Wanker!”

“Bitch!”

“Twat!”

“Cult leader!”

“Knobhead!”

Dean burst out laughing. “This isn’t working; I can’t do this with you and your completely British insults.”

“You’re just jealous I have a wider vocabulary than you,” she said arrogantly, folding her arms over her chest and lifting her chin.

“Whatever you say, Sweetheart,” he smirked at her and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, Def Leppard, turn it up.”

Dean shook his head, she was amusing; he would give her that.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 10

After another hour of Dean driving, Sam and Dean swapped so that Dean could have a break and he took an hour-long nap before waking up and pigging out on the food and confectionary that Hermione had bought them. After almost three hours of Sam driving, they stopped in Sioux City, Iowa, for the night. They pulled into a motel car park and whilst they busied themselves with getting their duffle bags, Hermione left to the front desk to get them their rooms.

Hermione entered the building and once again, it didn’t give her much hope for a nice room, though she would give the owners this, the walls looked to have been given a new coat of paint, even if it was a disgusting colour.

The man behind the counter had his eyes on her as soon as she entered through the door. He looked to be in his late twenties, he had blonde hair and dark brown eyes, with pointed and angular features and he wore a blue button-down shirt and jeans.

“Hello,” she said politely, stopping in front of the counter. “I would like to purchase two rooms for the night.”

“Well then, Beautiful, I’ll see what we have available,” he said with a charming smile before tapping away on a computer. “I’m afraid we only have one room available.”

“Again,” she groaned.

“We are the closest motel to the roads,” he said apologetically.

“I understand, I’ll take it please, my friends and I will just have to share,”

His eyes lit up. “Girlfriends?” He winked suggestively. “What I wouldn’t pay to see that.”

Hermione shifted uncomfortably on her feet, something about him set her magic on edge. “No, male friends,”

“Lucky them,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing, how long will you be staying?”

“Just one night, we’re just passing through.”

He nodded, typing away at the keyboard. “Room 12, you’ll find it to your right.”

“Thank you,” she said before paying for the night and taking the key from him.

“If you get bored of those _friends_ of yours, you know where to find me, Beautiful,” he smirked at her. “I know all the best spots around these parts, and I certainly know how to show a woman a good time,” he winked before his eyes travelled down her form and lingered on her covered breasts.

“Err, good for you,” she said nervously before she turned and practically ran to the Impala, where Dean and Sam were waiting for her. When she reached them she pulled her cardigan tighter around herself and gripped the fabric in her fists.

“Are you alright?” Sam asked. “You look a little pale,” he said with a concerned frown.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said unconvincingly and she looked behind her where she saw the man stood at the door, staring at her. “Let’s go, we’re in Room 12, there was only one room again so we’re sharing.”

She grabbed their arms and pulled them towards their room. Their eyes fell to the spot Hermione had been staring at and they saw the man stood in the doorway, his eyes seeming to be glued to Hermione’s retreating back or more specifically, her arse.

“Did he do something? Did he say something?” Dean asked.

If Hermione’s senses weren’t going haywire, she would’ve noticed the protectiveness in his voice. Something she would’ve never thought she’d hear coming from the man that had shot her on their first meeting, especially after the way he’d been treating her since the incident.

“Just leave it,” she pleaded and tugged on their arms harder since they had stopped in their steps as they both stared at him unflinchingly.

“What did he say to you?” He demanded.

“Nothing, he just made me feel uncomfortable, that’s all. I didn’t like the way he was staring at me. Now if you don’t mind, I want to get out of his line of sight, I can still feel his eyes on me,” she shivered.

“I’ll kill him,” he growled lowly, pulling his arm free of her grip and turning, intending to stalk over to him.

“No, just leave it, _please_ , let’s just go,” she pleaded, her hand once more reaching out to him and circling his wrist, preventing him from walking away.

He looked to her and her damn puppy dog eyes and he sighed and allowed her to pull him to their room as he was much stronger than her and if he really didn’t want to go, there was no way she’d be able to stop him from leaving. It surprised him that her puppy dog eyes had worked on him, usually, it was only Sam that could affect him, being his little brother, there wasn’t a lot he wouldn’t do for him.

Hermione quickly opened the door and stepped inside and she looked around. “Well, it’s not much better than the last place but at least there’s no blood on the carpet. Yay for no murders taking place here.”

Sam snorted at her whilst Dean watched her carefully, whatever the guy had said to her affected her; she looked nervous, uncomfortable and she kept pulling her cardigan closed as she gripped the fabric tightly in her hands.

Hermione looked around the room once more, seeing the double bed in the centre of the room and pushed back against the grey walls, the dirty white carpet looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since it was installed as it was now a hideous grey colour. In front of the window sat a small round table and two chairs tucked beneath. The bedside table sat a lap on top, a dark chest of drawers and an old looking TV sat on top of it where opposite the bed and a second door led to the bathroom.

“Hey, we’ve been upgraded, this place has a TV,” she joked and Sam snorted at her statement. “Right then, let’s get this place cleaned up so we don’t catch a disease and die.”

She pulled her wand from her hair and her curls spilt around her shoulders and down her back. Dean tilted his head at the action that wasn’t meant to be sexy, but let’s be honest, it was. She had a small crinkle in her forehead as she focused her attention on her task, muttering under her breath and waving her wand in intricate patterns that he could barely keep up with.

At that moment he realised that it seemed natural; he wasn’t on edge around her. He wasn’t disgusted by her or her magic. When the hell did that happen?

“Right, I’m done, I had to be careful so no noticeable changes were made. I cleaned everything and fumigated the room, but I couldn’t change the colour of the carpet, I did change the sheets though, so we won’t risk getting Tuberculosis.”

“Lovely,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Well, you can sleep on the floor then,” she huffed.

“Speaking of, we should discuss sleeping arrangements,” Sam suggested, taking a seat on the bed.

“It’s up to you, the floor, the bed, the car, whatever you want but I’m sleeping in the bed, I don’t mind sharing.”

“You don’t mind sharing a bed with two guys?” Dean raised an eyebrow. He noticed her shift uncomfortably and pull at her cardigan _again_ , what the hell did that guy say to her?

“Not really, I can enlarge the bed easily enough so we can all fit, and I trust you not to kill me in my sleep,” she shrugged. “It wouldn’t bother me, sharing I mean. I was on the run for a year with my two _male_ best friends, we often shared an enlarged camp bed for comfort and warmth; it was bloody cold in the winter whilst living in a tent in the middle of nowhere. We all got used to sharing a bed, so much so that we all lived together for a little while after the war and we’d often wake in the same bed or squished together on the floor or couch, it was the only way we could sleep and deal with the nightmares,” she smiled sadly. They both frowned at her words before turning to look at each other, as if silently communicating their thoughts. “I’ll sleep in the middle, be a barrier between you if it bothers you,” she offered. They looked at each other again before nodding slowly in agreement.

“Alright, but you sleep in the middle,” Sam said and she nodded.

“Right, I want a shower so...”

“Wait,” Hermione cut Dean off, “I’ll clean the bathroom first, we don’t want you getting ill from others people’s waste and the bacteria that are bound to be breeding like rabbits,” she said as she went into the bathroom. “Oh, this is _disgusting_ , that bathroom back at the petrol station was cleaner than this one!” She cried in disgust and they chuckled at her.

“What do you think he said to her?” Dean asked, turning to look at his brother who frowned at his question.

“I don’t know, but whatever it was had her worried. We’ll have to keep watch,” Sam replied and Dean was in agreement.

“Okay, you have less risk of dying now,” Hermione said cheerfully as she stepped into the room. Dean shook his head at her and picked up his duffle bag and left for the bathroom.

“I’m going to go for a walk, stretch my legs a little, do you want to come?” Sam asked her, standing up from the bed.

“I’m alright thanks, I think I’ll just get changed and do some research into any potential rituals the Death Eaters may be carrying out.”

“Alright, I’ll be back in about an hour, Dean knows how to contact me if you need me.”

Hermione nodded and smiled at him and he left the room. Hermione locked the door behind him out of habit and then she picked up her beaded bag from the table and made her way over to the bed, dropping the bag before opening it and rummaging around for some clean clothes.

She pulled out a comfortable pair of leggings and an old t-shirt that used to belong to Harry. Happy with her choice, she kicked off her boots before she removed her cardigan and then she crossed her arms and pulled her top over her head. She didn’t realise that someone had opened the door and was now stood in the doorway, leering at her as she unknowingly revealed more of herself to the intruder. She pulled the top over her head before bringing her hands down to undo the button and zip on her jeans.

She knocked her t-shirt off the bed and onto the floor and she bent down to pick it up but when she heard a sound, she stood, turning around to look behind her. In the doorway stood the man from the front desk and his eyes roamed her breasts, flat stomach and curves with a look of animalistic hunger in his eyes. Hermione screamed loudly and grabbed her t-shirt, wrapping it around herself and holding it to her chest to protect her body from his wondering eyes.

Dean came barrelling out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets and soap suds roaming down his well-defined chest and lathered shampoo still in his hair, one hand gripped his towel and in the other, he held his trusty handgun.

He saw Hermione trying to cover herself with a t-shirt and the man in the doorway to their room and he wasn’t the smartest of people but it didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together and understand what had happened. Dean rushed forward and without thought he stood in front of Hermione protectively, both to protect her modesty and to act as a shield.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dean demanded, his gun pointed in the man’s direction. The man’s eyes had widened and he held up his hands in surrender. “Did you open the door for him?” He asked her, his head tilting towards her but his eyes remained forward.

“No, I locked it behind Sam, I was changing and when I turned around he was there,” her voice shook.

“You let yourself into the room?” Dean spoke coldly.

“I forgot to give you the controller for the TV,” he explained.

“The controller’s on the table,” Hermione said to Dean. His eyes flickered to the table and she was right, it was sat in the middle of the surface and clear to see.

“Ah, honest mistake,” the man said, but they both could tell he didn’t mean it.

“Leave now!” Dean ordered.

“I should call the police, you’re threatening me with a deadly weapon,” the man spoke, a smirk on his face and a coldness in his eyes.

“I said leave, if you don’t I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in you. I’ll inform the police that you let yourself into an occupied room and watched a woman undress, all without her consent or knowledge,” Dean threatened. “And I have a license to carry a weapon, I’m a Hunter.”

A small smile pulled at her mouth at the double meaning of his words.

“Sorry, man, I won’t bother you again,” he stepped out of the room and closed the door after him.

Dean waited until he was sure the man was gone before he lowered his gun and turned to face Hermione, seeing that her body shook slightly and she had a pale, nauseous look on her face.

“You alright? He didn’t touch you, did he?” He asked, his voice softening and his eyes searched her face in concern.

“No, I’m fine, thank you, he just frightened me. I locked the door but I forgot they would have a copy in the office,” she shook her head. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” he frowned at her.

“I let my guard down, I should’ve put alert wards up,” she shook her head again. “I’ll remember next time, get back to your shower, it’s freezing in here and you’ll catch a cold.”

“Worried about me?” His mouth twitched at the corners as he tried to fight off the smirk threatening to make an appearance.

“Not when you keep your handgun with you in the shower,” she arched her eyebrow at him and he chuckled before heading back into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Hermione released a slow breath before crossing over to the door, taking a quick peek outside to ensure there was no one around and then she relocked the door before quickly changing into her t-shirt and leggings and securing her hair into a mass of curls on top of her head.

She searched through her beaded bag and pulled out all the books she had on magical rituals, moving them over to the table and taking a seat, making herself comfortable. She spread them out around her and grabbed a notebook and pen to make notes.

When Dean exited the shower, dried and dressed, it was to see Hermione immersed in several books, all of them covering the table. One hand would turn a page of a book and the other would make notes and he saw that she was reading several books at once. She hadn’t even noticed that Dean had entered the room, much to his amusement, he realised she was a bigger bookworm than Sam, and that was saying something, she put him to shame reading _eight_ books at once. Deciding not to disturb her as she seemed perfectly happy and engrossed with what she was doing, Dean busied himself with cleaning the guns and knives he had with him.

It wasn’t long later when Sam returned, knocking on the door to alert them to his presence and Dean let him into the room. Hermione hadn’t noticed or looked up from the table since Dean had left the bathroom. When he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, Sam immediately saw the concerned, suspicious expression on Dean’s face and it worried him.

“What’s wrong?”

Dean’s eyes flickered over to Hermione before he gestured for Sam to follow him to the other end of the room, putting them out of earshot of Hermione.

“Seriously, what happened?”

“We had a Peeping Tom,” Dean muttered.

“What?” Sam hissed quietly.

“The guy that we saw watching her, he turned up here. I was in the shower and I heard her screaming. I almost put a bullet in him. He was just staring at her whilst she hid behind a t-shirt.” Sam looked confused. “She was changing,”

“ _How_ did he get in?” Sam frowned.

“He let himself in with a key, she’d locked the door behind you and he used the copy they keep in the office. She didn’t even know he was there, his excuse being that he’d forgotten to give her the TV controller. The fucker tried to threaten me with the police since I had my gun pointed in his face.”

They both turned to look at Hermione, seeing that she was still immersed in her world of books with a concentrated frown on her face and her hand poised above the notepad as her eyes scanned the books before her, until she found what she was looking for and she nodded to herself as she wrote down her notes.

“How is she?” Sam asked.

“Before I left her she was shaken up but otherwise seemed fine, when I came out of the bathroom I found that,” he gestured to her. “I don’t know how long she’s been like that. I’m telling you, Sammy, I’ve got a bad feeling about this guy.”

“You think he’s supernatural?”

“Either that or a shitty human being, I don’t trust him. Get the salt and line the doors and windows, just to be sure. And paint a trap under the doormat. I’m not risking him being anywhere near her again.”

Sam tilted his head as he watched Dean watch Hermione and his brother couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her. A small smile tugged at his mouth before he grabbed the salt from his duffle bag and went about demon proofing the room.

It was two hours later when Hermione finally looked up from her books, seeing Sam and Dean both sat on the bed and watching what appeared to be a dreadful soap opera on TV.

“Sam? When did you get back?” She blinked in surprise.

“Two and a half hours ago,” he replied, sending her an amused glance.

“Oh, I never heard you come in,” she frowned before giving her head a shake. She dropped her pen onto her notepad and made a start at rubbing away the cramp in her hand and fingers. “I’m hungry, is anyone else hungry?”

“When are you _not_ hungry?” Dean snorted.

“When I’m eating, which I should be doing relatively soon,” she shot back. “Besides, I’ve seen how much food you can put away so you don’t have a leg to stand on.”

“But I’m a guy,” he shrugged.

“Well spotted,” she muttered, “And what does that have to do with anything? You’re saying that because I’m female, I’m not allowed to have a healthy appetite? Are you calling me fat?”

“What? No! How did we even go from me being a guy to you being offended that I called you fat?”

“So you _do_ think I’m fat?” She narrowed her eyes dangerously.

“Dean, shut up before you dig yourself an even deeper hole,” Sam chuckled.

“I’m still hungry,” Hermione said, sending a scowl to Dean before turning her gaze to Sam.

“Grab your coat and we’ll head out for a drink and something to eat,” Dean shrugged, standing from the bed and grabbing his leather jacket. “It’s almost eleven; the bars will still be open.”

“No, if you don’t mind, I think I want to stay in tonight.” She shifted in her seat nervously and her eyes darted down to the surface of the table.

Dean opened his mouth to speak but Sam beat him to it. “That’s alright, it’s been a long day, we’ll pick up some takeout and bring it back, pizza okay?” He sent Dean a look he didn’t understand until the metaphorical light bulb seemed to go off and he nodded his head in agreement.

“I could eat pizza,” Dean agreed.

“As long as it doesn’t have pineapple on it, fruit is _not_ meant to be on a pizza, it’s just wrong on so many levels I can’t even begin to comprehend,” she grimaced.

“We won’t be too long,” Sam promised.

“Take all the time you need, you don’t have to rush. My eyes are hurting from staring at my books for too long so I’ll take a little break.”

“Alright, lock the door behind us,” Sam instructed and she nodded; she had every intention of doing so.

“I’ll even put up some wards to alert me to intruders.”

“You can do that?” He asked surprised.

“I can,” she confirmed.

“Okay, we’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Get out,” she pointed to the door and Sam snorted at her.

“Make sure to re-salt the door,” Dean reminded her.

When they left, Hermione cast a Locking Charm on the door before re-salting it and then she crossed over to the bed and slipped under the covers, turning her attention to the TV and watching whatever Sam and Dean had been watching. Before she knew it, her eyes had closed and she’d drifted into sleep.

~000~000~000~

Jackson Bowman was an attractive man, he knew that, and he was very successful with the ladies. It wasn’t often that someone caught his attention in a way that he couldn’t stop thinking about her, but the occupant of Room 12, Hermione Jones, she had burned herself into his brain.

As soon as he saw her he knew he had to have her. She was exactly his type; slender and curvaceous, flawless skin, mahogany curls and chocolate brown eyes. He wasn't prejudiced, he loved all women but brunettes with brown eyes were his weakness. They were special; they were special because they reminded him of _her_. The one woman that he‘d loved dearly but she’d never reciprocated.

Well, he was going to show her what she was missing.

He flicked the ‘No Vacancy’ sign on before heading to Room 12. He’d never actually been inside the room and he wanted to get a look at the environment so he knew what he was working with.

He turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open and it was his lucky day as Hermione Jones was in the process of undressing. His eyes were glued to her as she dragged the tank top up her stomach, slowly and teasingly revealing every inch of her soft-looking skin to his eyes. Her tank top cleared her breasts and his eyes locked on the ample mounds held snugly in the light pink lace bra. She dropped the item of clothing and moved her hands down to her jeans, swiftly undoing the zip and button and he caught sight of the matching pink lace of her underwear before she bent down to pick up a fallen t-shirt from the ground. His gaze fell to her ass, wrapped in tight denim. He shifted on his feet and his presence was then known.

Before he knew it there was a guy wrapped in a towel and stood protectively in front of the beautiful brunette and a fucking _gun_ was pointed in his face. Just who were these people?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The guy demanded. “Did you open the door for him?” He asked the brunette.

“No, I locked it behind Sam, I was changing and when I turned around he was there,” her voice shook.

“You let yourself into the room?” The guy spoke coldly.

“I forgot to give you the controller for the TV,” he quickly explained, mentally patting himself on the back for coming up with a quick excuse.

“The controller’s on the table,” the brunette whispered.

_Shit!_

“Ah, honest mistake,” he said with a shrug, acting sincere.

“Leave now!”

“I should call the police, you’re threatening me with a deadly weapon,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets casually. He felt like riling him up a little, showing him that he wasn’t afraid or threatened by his or his weapon.

“I said leave, if you don’t I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in you. I’ll inform the police that you let yourself into an occupied room and watched a woman undress, all without her consent or knowledge,” the guy threatened. “And I have a license to carry a weapon, I’m a Hunter.”

“Sorry, man, I won’t bother you again,” he stepped out of the room and closed the door after him.

Now he would watch and wait, hopefully, she would be left alone and then she would be his. And that time came almost three hours later when from his place sitting at the front desk, he saw two men leaving Room 12 before jumping into a car and driving away. She was alone.

He waited another ten minutes to see if they would come back and they didn’t. He left the desk with the key to Room 12 in hand and he crossed the parking lot with only one destination in mind. He knew the other rooms were all empty, the occupants drinking at different bars nearby as they’d asked him for directions to the best drinking and partying spots. That meant she was the _only_ person currently at the motel. She truly was alone.

He tried to open the door but couldn’t; he sighed, it was just his luck that the door would choose that particular moment to jam. Back-up plan.

He made his way to the window and saw that the curtains were closed. He hoped it wasn’t locked and it wasn’t. With little effort, he opened the window from the outside and climbed into the room as quietly as possible, stepping out from behind the curtains and his eyes scanning his surroundings quickly.

The only sounds were that of the TV and the lamp gave the only light in the otherwise dark room. He found her; she was sleeping in the bed with the blanket pulled up to her waist and her curls fanned out on the pillow.

He smirked; he would show her a good time, better than anyone else and certainly better than her _friends_.

He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it to the floor, silently stalking over to the bed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for possible triggers with sexual assault.
> 
> Page Count: 11

In Hermione’s slumbering mind, she knew something was wrong. Deep down she knew she should wake up but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was exhausted; her mind overcrowded with thoughts of Death Eaters, murders, rituals and memories of the war and she wanted to escape at least one of those things for a little. Sleep was the only way to do that, even if it intensified the others.

Her brain knew something was wrong but it was buried by everything else. That was why she didn’t feel the bed dip under someone’s weight, why she didn’t feel the blanket being pulled away from her, and why she didn’t feel someone moving over her until it was too late.

Something touched the skin of her neck and she bolted upright, reaching for her wand, but she didn’t have it; she’d left it on the table and that was a mistake, the one time she didn’t have her wand and she needed it.

The man from the front desk was straddling her legs, her eyes landed on the lightly muscled chest before they wandered up to his face. What she saw scared her; an animalist look held in his eyes and a frightening grin on his lips. Her eyes widened in surprise, horror, and before she could let out a scream, a hand clamped down over her mouth and the other wrapped around her throat, pushing her down into the mattress and onto her back, holding her in place.

She wriggled and writhed underneath him, trying to buck him off her but he was too heavy for her small frame. Without her wand she’s defenceless. How could she have been so stupid to leave her wand on the table? She always went to sleep with it on her. She blamed the Winchesters; she’d let her guard drop around them, making her careless.

“There’s no point in screaming, there’s no one else here. Your _boyfriends_ are gone, I saw them take the car and there’s no other occupants, it’s just you and me,” he cooed down at her.

Her efforts to get him off her doubled to the point where she could feel herself beginning to tire, she could feel her legs bruising under his heavier weight, she could feel his hand on her throat tightening; it was getting harder to breathe and she knew she’d have bruises there, too.

He brought his hand away from her mouth and the muffled sounds of her screams died down to cries, tears beginning to leak from her eyes in terror. He trailed his fingers down her face and she turned her head away from him but he turned it back forcefully and cupped her cheek, wiping her fallen tears away.

 _‘Castiel! Castiel!’ S_ he thought in panic, but he didn’t come.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, Anna,” he whispered.

At the sound of the unknown name falling from his lips, Hermione understood he was far more terrifying than she’d previously thought and completely bonkers, too. The panic within her doubled and she thrashed and writhed harder, trying to break free of his hold and weight.

He raised his hand high before bringing it down and backhanding her. A tingling sensation strung against her cheek and he caught her lip and it split, blood beginning to drip from the wound. Hermione cried out at the pain and continued to thrash, she screamed as loud as she could, hoping that someone, _anyone_ , would hear her, help her.

“I love you, Anna, why would you cheat on me? If you’re good enough to fuck _two_ bastards at the same time, you’re good enough to fuck me, you bitch!” He spat at her. The grip on her throat tightened and she gasped for air. “It’s time to show you why leaving me was a mistake,” he sneered at her.

He brought his free hand down and grabbed the hem of her shirt and Hermione used her hands to try and push him off her, pounding her fists against his chest but having little to no effect. He grunted and grabbed both of her hands in his and pinned them above her head, his other hand coming away from her throat and she coughed and gasped as oxygen was suddenly flowing to her lungs again. He backhanded her once more, cutting her left cheek as he caught it with the ring of his finger, before he brought his hand down and ripped the collar of her t-shirt, the sound of the fabric tearing being loud in the quiet of the room and the tear ended just below her breasts.

Hermione screamed at the top of her lungs until her throat burned, doing her best to kick her legs free of him and to wrestle her wrists from his tight grasp but he was too strong for her, too heavy and large for her smaller frame.

“Shut it!” He hissed, bringing his free hand up to cover her mouth and muffle her screams.

Hermione saw an opportunity and took it. She pulled her lips back and sank her teeth straight into his flesh, biting down hard enough that he emitted a loud noise of pain and he pulled his hand back from her mouth instantly. Hermione’s screams and cries continued as she writhed and bucked against him, hoping to use his distraction as an advantage and get him off her. But it didn’t work; she’d only angered him further.

“You stupid whore,” he snarled, his uninjured hand curling into a fist and she saw stars when it collided with her face, choking on her screams when she heard the ‘crunch’ of her nose breaking and she felt the pain of it throbbing dully and the warm liquid seeping out.

Hermione cried as his hand smoothed down her neck, over her collar bone and across her breasts. When he lowered his head closer to her neck, Hermione took her chance; she took a deep breath and forgot about the throbbing of her nose as she brought her head up and head-butted him in the face. She heard a ‘crack’ and he cursed as he brought both hands to his broken nose, trying to stop the bleeding and his noise of pain muffled by his hands.

Now that her hands were free, she stretched as far as she could and she reached for the lamp on the bedside table; ripping the cord from the plug socket as she lifted the lamp and brought it crashing down on the back of his head.

He fell to the side and Hermione pushed him off her, she kicked the blankets away and with the broken lamp in hand, she ran to the other side of the room and hid in the corner, the lamp as her weapon. She cried as the man lay unconscious on the bed and praying that someone would help her.

~000~000~000~

“Let’s head back,” Dean suggested, carrying the two pizza boxes whilst Sam carried the beer.

“Hermione said to take our time.”

“I know, but I want to get back. I have a bad feeling; we should’ve never left her alone.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You’re worried about Hermione?”

“No,” Dean denied.

“You _like_ her, like, _like_ her _like_ her,” he teased.

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you _do_ , but Hermione can take care of herself, she’s a war veteran, there’s not much than can get past her.”

“Still, we should head back, we’ve got a long drive tomorrow and we’re going to need the sleep.”

Sam shrugged his shoulders and they both hopped into the Impala, it taking almost ten minutes to arrive back at the motel. The moment Dean stepped out of the car he _knew_ something wasn’t right, something just seemed...Off, wrong. Without thought, he rested his hand on his gun but didn’t pull it.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“Something’s wrong,” he muttered, his eyes darting around in the darkness of the parking lot, searching for any possible threats.

He slowly walked towards their room and his ears picked up on the sounds of crying, an accurate description would be sobbing; cries of fear and despair. Before Dean could rush forward, Sam placed a hand on his shoulder and kept him back by pinning him with a slight glare. They had to be careful; they didn’t know what they were walking into.

Sam placed the pizza and beer on the ground and pulled his own gun and together they advanced on their room, their guns raised and ready to be fired at a moment’s notice should they need to be. When Sam noticed the window being open a frown pulled at his face, the cries now being louder.

Dean couldn’t take it anymore and he quickened his steps as he approached the door to their room, ignoring his brother’s whispered hisses that he’d broken from the plan. He tried the door after seeing the key in the lock but it wouldn’t open, so he entered through the open window, briefly hearing Sam groan in annoyance before he followed after him, walking straight into the back of Dean who was stood rooted to the spot in surprise, and he could see why.

The guy from the front desk was sprawled out on the bed, shirtless, with blood flowing from his nose and the back of his head and glass shards surrounding him.

Their eyes fell to Hermione; she was cowering in the corner of the room, crying and shaking like a leaf. Her t-shirt was torn, her cheek, nose and lip bleeding; she was pale and she gripped a broken lamp to her chest as if it was the only thing keeping her alive.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened in their absence.

Sam saw Dean stiffen and could practically feel the rage that coursed through him. The Hunter stalked forward and dropped his handgun to the floor, intending to beat the shit out of the unconscious guy on the bed with his bare hands, but Sam prevented him from doing so when he grabbed Dean by the collar and before an argument could take place, he gave him a shove in Hermione’s direction.

Sam watched as Dean’s enraged expression suddenly left him, only for it to be replaced with fear and concern. He rushed forward and dropped onto his knees beside Hermione, he was whispering to her, but she didn’t hear him, didn’t take notice. He reached out to touch her shoulder and she screamed bloody murder, the sound piercing their ears. In surprise, he swiftly pulled his hand back before taking a deep breath and he reached forward once more, this time going for the lamp. She clutched it tighter and fought him for it.

“Hermione,” he said softly.

She froze at hearing her name fall from his lips.

Her glazed over eyes seemed to come into focus as she looked up at him, blinking several times and shaking her head to remove the haze from her mind. Upon noticing that Sam and Dean were with her and that she was finally safe, her cries only grew louder but with relief, not fear. She dropped the lamp from her hands and launched herself at him, her arms looping around his neck and her head burying between his shoulder and neck.

Dean was surprised to say the least but he quickly recovered, wrapping his arms around her back and rubbing comfortingly, whispering reassuring words into her ear. He shifted so that he sat on the ground, leaning back against the wall and Hermione was leaning against him, clinging to him tightly.

Sam glanced at them sadly before pulling out his phone and calling the police, his eyes still on Hermione and Dean as he did so. When he hung up he told Dean the police were on their way and then he quickly picked up Dean’s fallen gun and their duffle bags with their weapons in, along with Hermione’s books and notes. He then unlocked the door and ran down to the Impala to hide the weapons and books from the police before he returned to the room, positioning himself so he stood beside the bed in case the unconscious man woke before the police arrived. It would give him the best vantage point to both keep the guy restrained and keep Dean away from him should he decide to get justice for Hermione without the aid of the law, which Sam knew Dean was more than capable of doing and something he wouldn’t hesitate to do, either.

Sam’s eyes never left Hermione or Dean, watching the way his brother comforted the understandably distraught and terrified witch, all without complaint or a single snarky comment. He just held her to him, rubbing comforting circles on her back and whispered to her. Being too far away he wasn’t able to hear but he didn’t need to and he wasn’t sure he wanted to, either. It seemed too personal to interrupt or intrude on their privacy.

Dean brought his hands to Hermione’s shoulders and gently pushed her back and away from him so that he could look at her. He moved his hands up to carefully cup her cheeks, his eyes scanning her face and cataloguing her injuries, rage flashing through his eyes and they darted to the unconscious heap on the bed, as if deciding on how he would make the man pay for what he’d done, but when Hermione’s grip tightened on him he managed to calm himself, not completely but enough to know she needed his attention and she was his first priority.

Dean’s thumbs swiped away her falling tears before gently grazing her cheek, wiping away the blood and he did the same to her lip, apologizing softly when she whimpered in pain. With his thumbs, he carefully probed and examined her nose, she let out a cry of pain and he wiped away the blood before moving his hands back to holding her cheeks. He’d seen enough broken noses to know when one was broken, and hers certainly was.

“You’re safe now, I won’t let anything happen to you,” Dean muttered softly after catching Hermione’s gaze. She let out another sob and Dean pulled her back into his body, wrapping her up in his arms and holding her against him gently, protectively, as he whispered to her.

Sam could honestly say, he’d never been prouder of his older brother.

Soon enough the police arrived with flashing lights and sirens along with the paramedics. The guy was still unconscious and he was put onto a gurney and taken to an ambulance, where the police followed them to the hospital and two police officers stayed behind to take statements.

“Miss. Jones, I’m Officer Garcia, this is Officer Peters,” the young brunette said softly as she crouched down to Hermione’s level. “We need to take your statement.”

Neither Hermione nor Dean had moved from their places on the floor in the last thirty minutes, though Hermione’s cries had quieted down to whimpers and sniffles. Hermione finally lifted her head from Dean’s neck and she turned to look at her, her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, her cheeks tearstained and her face bright red. Officer Garcia gave her a comforting smile.

“The only way we can prosecute is if we have your statement.”

Hermione slowly nodded but didn’t move away from Dean, rather, she tucked her head under his chin and her cheek pressed to his chest. For the next fifteen minutes, Hermione told them everything, Dean’s grip on her had slowly begun to tighten until she gasped and he loosened his hold on her but not by much.

“Thank you, we have paramedics waiting to see to you.”

“No, I’m fine, just a few cuts, they’ll heal,” she said quietly.

“I really think that...”

“She said she was fine,” Dean said sharply, glaring at the officer.

She didn’t take offence, she merely nodded in acceptance. “We may need you to testify so you shouldn’t go too far.”

“We’re only passing through, we’re travelling for work and we’ll be gone by lunchtime tomorrow,” Sam spoke, looking at Hermione sadly and worriedly.

“Well...”

Hermione cut her off. “He’s done this before,” she whispered.

“What?” The officer said quickly.

“He’s done this before.”

“Are you sure?”

Hermione nodded. “Positive, I have no evidence but I know what I saw. He was too confident in his ability to achieve what he set out to do and he just _knew_ he would achieve it and get away with it. He expertly entered the room without me hearing it and trust me, Officer, there isn’t much that gets past me. My parents have a military background and I was brought up on their beliefs that I should know how to defend myself and always be aware of my surroundings. I also fought in the war myself, my battle instincts should’ve kicked in.”

“There was something _off_ about him, he made me feel uncomfortable whilst I was checking in and he kept watching me, flirting with me. Then he pulled a Peeping Tom and Dean had to threaten him with the police to get him to leave. There was a coldness in him, a sense of arrogance, _evil_. He called me Anna and asked how I could cheat on him. He got the wrong impression about me; Sam and Dean are my brothers. Whoever he thought I was he wanted to _punish_ me, he’s done this before, I’m sure of it.”

“We’ll look into it, in the meantime, you should see about seeking medical attention, if not tonight, then tomorrow. We’ll leave you to rest.”

Both officers left the room, closing the door behind them and Sam watched from the window as the police car left before he drew the curtains fully closed and locked the door once more.

“Are you alright?” Sam asked Hermione softly, crouching down in front of them.

“Of course, she isn’t!” Dean snapped. “She was attacked,” he hissed.

“Boys,” Hermione muttered tiredly and they both looked down at her; she looked exhausted.

“Hermione, why didn’t you use your wand?” Sam asked her. Dean glared at him for asking such a question given what she’d just been through.

“I left it on the table and couldn’t get to it. I didn’t hear him come in because I was so tired and my guard has significantly lowered since meeting you both. There is such a thing as wandless magic, but it’s extremely difficult to master; it requires patience, concentration and a clear mind, of which, I had none. I was too busy trying to breathe as he had his hands wrapped around my throat,” she said. Dean hugged her tighter and Sam looked at her sadly. “My intruder alarms weren’t activated because I only charmed the door, I didn’t think to apply the alarms to the windows, I completely forgot,” she trailed off. “Can I borrow someone’s phone?”

“Sure,” Sam smiled at her, pulling his phone from his pocket and handing it to her.

She flipped it open and pressed a series of numbers on the keypad before a ringing could be heard.

“Hello, thank you for calling the Ministry of Magic, how may I direct your call?” They heard a British accent over the speaker and Hermione placed the phone on loudspeaker so they all could hear.

“This is Head Auror Hermione Granger; I would like to speak to Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

“And what does the matter pertain?” The snobby sounding woman asked.

“It’s classified,”

“I’m sorry, Miss. Granger...”

“ _Head Auror_ Granger,” Hermione interrupted.

“Head Auror Granger,” the woman corrected, not sounding pleased. “I cannot allow you to speak with Minister Shacklebolt without a reason.”

“I have a reason, it is classified, something that you are not cleared for...”

“Listen here...” The woman snapped.

“No, you listen here, you’re interfering in a classified matter, one in which I will have charges brought up against you for obstruction of justice, not to mention, Minister Shacklebolt will not be pleased to hear that his employees are keeping his _Department Head_ from conversing with him on important matters, matters that don’t concern you, so you get him for me, or I’ll port-key over there for the simple reason of transfiguring you into a bloody weasel and then feeding you to a hippogriff, no one will find your remains since they’ll be digested in the hippogriff’s stomach and then later excreted and turned into fertilizer. Put the God damn Minister on the phone!” Hermione growled in annoyance.

The line on the other end was silent for an entire minute.

“Minster Shacklebolt will be with you momentarily,” the woman’s voice shook.

“About bloody time,” she muttered. Sam and Dean looked to each other and then to her in awe, surprised by her outburst.

“Hermione, must you always terrify the receptionist,” Kingsley’s voice came over the line, chuckling.

“She was being a pain in the arse, a pain I don’t have time for,” she muttered.

“Is everything alright, Hermione, it’s not often you call on this fely-thing?”

“Telephone,” Hermione corrected automatically. “And no, Kings, I’m not alright, but I will be, I was attacked.”

“What? Who was it? Death Eaters? How many? Where are you? Do you need back-up?”

“Kings, calm down, it wasn’t Death Eaters. I was attacked by a muggle; he broke into my motel room when I was sleeping. He tried to rape me.” Kingsley let out a growl and a sound of disgust. “I knocked him out with a lamp as my wand was out of reach. The muggle police have taken him to hospital for treatment.”

“You would like me to do something?”

“Yes, I’m certain that my attacker has done this before and I’m not his only victim.”

“Alright, I’ll have Harry send over an Auror to do some digging, they’ll work with the local police until either your suspicions are confirmed or proven wrong. He won’t get away with attacking you.”

“Thank you, Kings, please don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course, your identity will be kept classified, my ears only,” he promised her. “What do you know about him?”

“Jackson Bowman, brown eyes, blonde hair, late twenties, angular and pointed features, approximately five-foot-nine.”

“I’ll get right on it. Location?”

“Sioux City, Iowa, I’ll send over the coordinates.”

“It’ll take a few hours to approve a port-key and inform the chosen Auror. Is there anyone you would like specifically?”

“Auror Kyle, he’s experienced in this area, I was his examiner six years ago so I know what he’s capable of.”

“Good choice. And now for a change in subject, how is your search coming along?”

“I believe we’ve found their headquarters. I found a pattern in the killings, twenty-seven murders in nine months, three at a time. When joining the dots on the map it creates the snake from the dark mark. The only location missing was Cleveland, Tennessee. We’re heading over there but we had to stop for the night, we should be there by tomorrow night. I believe they’re completing a ritual but I’m not sure which one yet, I’ll let you know if I need back-up.”

“You do that, Hermione.”

“Bye, Kings,”

“Goodbye, Hermione,” he said.

Hermione ended the call before quickly sending the coordinates through a text message and she flipped the phone closed and handed it back to Sam.

“How do you expect this Kyle guy to find something the police don’t?” Sam asked her.

“We have resources available to us that muggles don’t. We have the ability to read a person’s mind, with or without their knowledge; it depends on how good of a Legilimens you are. We also have Veritaserum, a Truth Potion that forces a person to tell the truth. Any attempt to lie will result in pain and it won’t subside until the truth is spoken. Five minutes alone in a room with Bowman and Kyle will walk out knowing his every secret. I’m certain he’s done this to others before, though I suspect I’m the only one to succeed in fighting him off. It’ll be easy for Kyle to get a confession, afterwards, all he has to do is gather evidence which won’t take him long, as I said to Kings, this is his area of expertise. He despises rapists and killers, more so than any other type of criminal. In his personnel file it states that his older muggle sister was raped and murdered when he was thirteen years old,” she spoke sadly and the room fell into silence.

“Are you hungry?” Dean asked her quietly, breaking the silence.

“No, I just want to sleep,” she muttered.

“If that’s what you want, I wouldn’t eat the pizza anyway, Sam dropped it on the floor, the beer might be okay though,” he shrugged. She shook her head; she truly just wanted to sleep.

Sam helped her to stand and she wobbled on her feet before she caught herself and she held her torn t-shirt so that it covered her form and she slowly crossed to the table where she picked up her wand and felt the comfort of it wash over her, making her feel safe and protected; she wouldn’t be relinquishing it any time soon. Much to their awe, with a flick of her wand her broken nose was healed and the blood vanished from her face, and another wave of her wand had the bed enlarged to a king-sized, it only just fitting in the room. Deciding to change the sheets, too, she flicked her wrist and they were replaced.

She stood rooted to the spot, not moving, barely breathing or blinking, she just stared at the bed.

Dean found her beaded bag on the table and opened it up, warily he stuck his hand inside and he was surprised when he was able to feel around and several things touched against his fingers; he was looking for a new shirt for Hermione to sleep in and he couldn’t find one, so he brought his hand out and put the bag back on the table.

He shrugged off his leather jacket and flung it onto a chair before shrugging off his shirt and putting that on top of his jacket. This left him in his t-shirt, which he pulled off and walked over to Hermione, leaving him shirtless with only his jeans and shoes for clothing.

He put his hand on her shoulder and she jumped and tensed, but quickly relaxed realising it was only Dean and he meant her no harm. He held out his t-shirt in offering and slowly she took it from him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He didn’t reply, but he and Sam shared a look and they both turned around to give her some privacy without having to leave the room.

“It’s okay,” she spoke quietly.

They turned around to see that Dean’s t-shirt was a little too big for her with it falling to her mid-thigh, her leggings being seen beneath it and she still held her wand in her hand. Her damaged t-shirt had been thrown in the bin across the room and still she just stood there, staring at the bed in silence.

“It’s time to get some sleep, Hermione,” Sam said softly.

Hermione lifted her eyes to him to see that he gave her a soft, comforting smile as he nodded to the bed in encouragement. She gave her wand a wave and a potion came flying from her bag and she caught it in her hand. She wasn’t scheduled to take a Dreamless Sleep Potion but she needed it and she wasted no time in downing it in one and she vanished the vial before she climbed into bed, shifting into the middle of the mattress and burrowing under the blanket. Still, she didn’t relinquish her wand. 

Dean and Sam looked at each other, having a silent conversation.

“I’m okay, just get in,” Hermione said tiredly.

They looked at each other once more before kicking off their shoes and Sam shrugged off his jacket. Cautiously, they made their way to the bed and slid under the covers still dressed in their clothes, minus Dean his shirt and they got comfortable on either side of Hermione. There was plenty of room for all three of them without them having to touch each other; they each had their own little space.

Hermione had already fallen asleep, Sam soon followed her, yet Dean was still awake, staring at Hermione’s sleeping face as she was facing him. She looked relaxed; the only sign of her previous distress and attack was that of tear tracks on her cheeks, her injuries having been healed and the blood washed from her face.

Her breathing was even and relaxed, she was curled in on herself, the blanket pulled up to her chin and he saw the tip of her wand peeking out from under the covers of where her hand rested on the pillow beside her head, her wand clasped in the closed fist.

He frowned when he realised he had been watching her for far longer than what was considered normal or appropriate, and he forced himself to follow their example, drifting off to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 9

The next morning found Sam waking before Hermione and Dean, and like the morning before, it was to see Dean wrapped tightly around Hermione, though this time Hermione appeared to be as equally clingy with her practically being draped across Dean in their slumber. He thought about possibly taking another photo to later use as blackmail material, but he quickly remembered the previous night’s happenings and decided against it.

Sam climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom, intending to clean himself up for the coming day of travel. When he exited the bathroom fifteen minutes later, he was surprised to see that Hermione was no longer present in the room, only Dean was and he was still asleep, though now he was clutching the pillow Hermione had previously used.

Sam threw the wet towel he had dried his hair with at Dean, waking him up. Dean sprang up with his silver knife clutched in his hand and when he saw it was only Sam he glared at him before sighing and running a hand through his hair.

“What the hell was that for?” He grumbled.

“Hermione’s not here.”

Sam’s response had Dean jumping from the bed, tucking his knife away, grabbing his shoes and pulling them on before running to his shirt he’d taken off the night before and pulling it on along with his leather jacket and he headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked with a frown; he hadn’t expected Dean’s frantic reaction to hearing that Hermione wasn’t present.

“To find her, anything could’ve happened to her.” A genuine look of worry surfaced on his face.

“She’ll be fine,” Sam shrugged.

“How the fuck can you be so calm?” Dean demanded.

“Hermione wouldn’t just leave us here, besides, her bag’s still on the table.”

Dean’s head swivelled around to see that Sam was right; Hermione’s beaded bag _was_ still sat on the table.

“She wouldn’t go anywhere without it,” Dean spoke, calming himself down, he knew how important the bag was to her survival, her life, she would _never_ leave without it.

“She wouldn’t,” Sam agreed. “Wherever she went, she’ll be back, this case is important to her and she wouldn’t abandon it. We just have to wait for her to return and then we can get back on the road.”

Dean didn’t look happy at the news but he walked to the bathroom and the door closed behind him. Sam shook his head and left the room, heading out to the Impala to sort everything away correctly, since he’d just thrown it in before the police arrived the night before and he knew Dean would be a pain in the ass if he saw the state of the weapons case.

It didn’t take him long to have everything back in its rightful place and he removed Hermione’s books from the trunk and placed them on the back seat for when she returned. When he returned to the room, Dean was sitting at the table, dressed in clean clothes and his leg bouncing nervously and his eyes were trained on the door. A look of relief appeared when Sam entered but it quickly disappeared; he was obviously waiting for Hermione.

“She’ll be fine and she’ll be back,” Sam repeated.

Dean merely turned his attention to the window, his eyes scanning the parking lot outside and watching for Hermione. Sam busied himself by packing away their dirty clothes and placing them by the door ready to leave, before sitting himself down on the edge of the bed and joining Dean in the waiting game.

Twenty minutes later, the door opened and they both stood, ready to draw their weapons, Sam his gun and Dean his knife as his gun was in the Impala. Hermione entered the room with a tray of styrofoam cups and a brown paper bag. They both relaxed but they eyed her warily.

“How do we know it’s really her?” Dean asked Sam.

“The trap under the mat,” Sam reminded him.

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes were tired, her hair pulled up on top of her head in a bushy mess, she was wearing a pair of converse, matching grey tracksuit pants and an opened jacket, along with a grey scarf wrapped around her neck and she still wore Dean’s t-shirt. She looked exhausted and defeated, Dean didn’t like it.

“Stop being a wanker and take the bloody breakfast I bought you before I shove it down your throat and choke you to death,” she glared at him.

“It’s Hermione,” Sam said amused, walking over to her to take the breakfast items from her and depositing them on the table. She walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

“Told you she’d be back,” Sam said to Dean, pulling out the fruit salad she’d purchased for him and taking his coffee from the tray.

Dean didn’t respond, he just took his coffee and the tray of bacon, sausages and eggs and began eating but when he noticed there were only _two_ coffees and the brown bag was empty, he frowned.

When Hermione exited the bathroom, Dean said, “Have you already eaten?”

“No, I’m not hungry,” she said quietly.

“ _When_ are you _not_ hungry?” He raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

She shrugged her shoulders and avoided his gaze. “I’m just not hungry,” she muttered. 

He eyed her closely as he ate his breakfast and Hermione grabbed her beaded bag from the table and made sure that she hadn’t left anything behind.

“I’ll check us out and wait for you in the car, we’ve still got around fourteen hours of travel left.”

She exited the room, picking up their duffle bags and dropping them off at the car before quickly checking out and avoiding the gazes and whispers of other occupants mulling around, obviously talking about her and what had occurred the previous night.

The owner of the motel, an older woman, apologised profusely but Hermione waved off her words and assured her that it wasn’t her fault, she refused to take the refund that was offered and told the woman that the room would be free in less than an hour.

She headed back to the Impala, seeing that Dean and Sam were both stood waiting for her. Dean caught the whispers and the stares of those mulling around and standing by their cars and he glared in their direction.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” he snapped, the others quickly averted their gaze. “It could’ve been any one of you last night, just remember that.” The women present all paled and horrified looks crossed their faces. “You alright?” Dean asked Hermione as she approached him, this time his voice a whole different level of soft, one Sam didn’t even know Dean was capable of.

“Peachy,” she muttered. “Let’s get going, I’m tired of everyone looking at me like I’m a freak show, it’s like being back in England.”

She opened the door and climbed into the back seat, Sam and Dean shared a look before both climbing into their seats, Dean started the ignition and they left the motel, setting off on their long day of travel.

Half an hour into the journey, Hermione had cast a _Silencio_ around Sam and handed him the book he had been reading the previous day and Dean was free to listen to his music as loud as he wished to and Hermione remained quiet in the back seat.

Dean’s eyes strayed to Hermione in the rearview mirror and he frowned when he saw that she wasn’t reading as she usually was. Instead, she had a pillow in a purple cover tucked under her head and a single duvet -also purple- which she had cocooned herself in and she was staring at the back of Sam’s seat. He didn’t even know where she’d gotten those items from; he hadn’t even noticed her shuffling about in the back.

He debated talking to her but decided against it and turned his attention back to the road. An hour later, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Hermione shifting and he turned the music down a little. It was ten minutes after that when he heard something, but it was very faint. He turned the music to silent.

“Dean?” Hermione said quietly, her attention still on the back of Sam’s seat.

“Yeah?” He replied, looking over his shoulder before turning his eyes back to the road.

“Will you teach me to fight?” She asked him.

“What?” He blurted out in shock.

“If we have time, will you teach me to fight?” She repeated.

“Why would you ask me that? Why do you need me to teach you anything? Why didn’t you ask Sam?” He fired off confused.

“Because I need your help; I’m weak. Without my wand I’m helpless and I can barely defend myself. I don’t ever want to find myself in that situation again, I barely got out unscathed. I didn’t ask Sam because I know he would worry about me, I may not have known either of you for long, four days at most, but I have learned a lot about the both of you. I know that you wouldn’t hesitate to hold back, I know that you won’t treat me with kid gloves because I don’t need that. What I need is to know that I can defend myself both with _and_ without magic,” she spoke softly. “So, will you teach me, please?” She whispered.

He looked back at her over his shoulder and she finally looked up at him and he felt any thought of saying no vanish at the vulnerable expression on her face. “I’ll help you,” he agreed.

She gave him a small smile. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded at her and turned his attention back to the road, reaching over to turn the music up once more.

~000~000~000~

After driving for three hours, they stopped to allow them to stretch their legs and to use the restroom. Sam entered the car with a bag of beverages and food for lunch and Dean eyed Hermione in concern when she declared that she wasn’t hungry, but left her be. Sam took over driving for a few hours to give Dean a rest before swapping back over and after seven hours, Hermione was asleep in the back of the car, Sam was driving and Dean was sat in the passenger’s seat, staring out of the window as they approached their destination.

“You’ve been quiet,” Sam observed, thankful that they were almost at Cleveland. Fourteen hours in a confined space was a long time. Dean didn’t reply. “Seriously, what’s gotten into you?”

“Do you think she’ll be alright?”

“Hermione? She’ll be fine,” Sam assured him.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, she’s told us about her life and I’ve read about her in that book she gave me, she’s been through a lot, she’s survived a lot and she’s a fighter. Witch or not, she’s just like us, she’s still a Hunter.”

“Hunters have a death wish,” Dean muttered.

Sam snorted. “Her more so than usual apparently,” he said amused, remembering when he’d learned about her _four_ previous deaths. “But yeah, she’ll be fine, I’m sure of it.”

“You check us into the motel and I’ll wake Sleeping Beauty,” Dean said, not wanting to discuss the topic anymore.

“She’s jumpy,” Sam warned him.

“I’ve seen,” he sighed when they passed the sign welcoming them to Cleveland and twenty minutes later Sam parked the car in the parking lot of a motel. He went to check them in and Dean turned around in his seat and prepared himself to have a wand in his face for waking Hermione.

He reached out and just as he touched her shoulder, she bolted upright and her wand was pressed against his throat. Dean remained still and quiet as he waited for her to come back to her senses, to realise that he wasn’t a threat to her and she was safe.

“Sorry,” she muttered, lowering her wand and rubbing her hand over her face.

“It’s alright; those reflexes will help to keep you alive.”

“Believe me, I know how to stay alive. Death hates me more than he does Harry and that’s saying something.”

Dean’s eyes wandered down to her neck when he noticed that her scarf was no longer in place and he realised why she’d been wearing the scarf in the first place. His eyes narrowed on her throat and his face hardened when he saw the hand-shaped bruises, consistent with strangulation.

“I’ve had worse injuries,” she whispered, looking down and away from him.

He chose not to respond to that. “Come on, Sammy’s checking in, get that handy bag of yours and we’ll get something to eat, we’ll start fresh in the morning.”

She didn’t respond but wrestled her pillow and duvet into her beaded bag and when she was finished they both stepped out of the car, just as Sam approached them.

“Alright, Hermione, you’re in Room 3, we’re in Room 7, just down the hall,” Sam handed her the key and she took it hesitantly.

“Thank you,” she spoke.

Dean had already removed both his and Sam’s duffle bags from the car. “You take Baby and get us some food.” He gave the keys to Sam who nodded and they left to go their separate ways, Hermione and Dean going to their rooms and Sam leaving to find them something to eat.

Hermione entered her room and she looked around, seeing that it was a lot cleaner than the previous motels they had stayed at and better decorated, too. The walls were white with black accents and a black carpet covered the ground. She had a table and two chairs sat in front of the window and a chest of drawers nearby with the TV sat on top and the queen-sized bed had black bedding and it dominated the room and was against the back wall facing the TV.

Without thought, Hermione cast Cleaning Charms around the room and did the same in the bathroom; she cast Locking Charms on the door _and_ window and used a Caterwauling Charm, too. She placed her beaded bag on the table and dug around inside and pulled out her research and books, setting them upon the table and continuing with where she’d left off the previous night.

It was half an hour later when there was a knock on the door and with her wand held tightly in her hand, she opened it to see Sam standing on the opposite with dinner as on offering. After a stern look from him and threats, she promised she would eat and he left her alone with her research. She picked at her food as she researched the rituals and when she ate half and could eat no more, she banished it.

It was the early hours of the morning when her eyes were hurting from staring at her books for hours on end and she knew she needed to sleep, besides, she believed that she had possibly found the ritual the Death Eaters were planning to use.

She stood and walked over to the bed and she changed into a baggy t-shirt and a pair of leggings and she pulled back the covers, but didn’t climb into bed; she just stared at it. After several minutes, she forced herself to get into bed and lay down and it wasn’t long until she fell asleep.

Barely an hour later she bolted upright, sweating and panting, tears falling down her face and her wand gripped tightly in her hand until her knuckles turned white.

Without thought, she climbed out of bed and removed the Locking Charm on the door, she exited her room and quickly made her way down the hall to Room 7. She had no idea what time it was but that didn’t stop her from knocking on the door. She heard shuffling from inside and the door opened, Dean peeked around the door and she saw the tip of his gun. He took one look at her and he pulled the door open wider and she walked through the door and into the room.

His room was similar to hers except for the two double beds, one of which Sam was currently occupying and he was dead to the world. The TV was turned on and an old action film was showing, the second bed’s covers were ruffled but the bed didn’t look slept in, so she hadn’t woken Dean as it seemed he had already been awake.

He shut the door and nodded to his bed in invitation and Hermione didn’t respond, she just walked over to the bed and climbed over to the other side and burrowed under the covers. The mattress dipped as Dean reclined back beside her, his hands behind his head and his legs crossed at the ankle as he turned his attention back to the TV.

Neither of them spoke, they just watched the awful film in silence. It was when the credits began rolling that Dean reached over for the controller and turned off the TV, plunging the room into silence and darkness.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dean’s voice cut through the silence and when she didn’t answer he continued. “If you even think about telling Sammy that I said this I won’t hesitate to shoot you...”

“Again,” she corrected.

“Again,” he confirmed, but she could hear the amusement in his voice, “Sometimes it’s best to talk about these things, it helps to process it when you admit that it happened.”

Silence fell upon them for several minutes until Hermione spoke. “It brought back memories that I blocked out,” she said quietly, he didn’t interrupt and he allowed her to gather her thoughts. “The attack last night brought back memories from the war when I was captured. We wanted to know about the mark of the Deathly Hallows and at the time we didn’t know what it meant and Harry had seen the symbol before. It was on a necklace that belonged to Luna Lovegood’s father, she was one of our friends from Hogwarts. We travelled to his home and he told us about the Deathly Hallows and that’s when I remembered the tale of The Three Brothers. He was acting strangely and it didn’t take us long to find out why; he’d double-crossed us. Luna had been captured by Voldemort’s forces and he was going to hand us over in exchange for her freedom. We managed to escape and just when we thought we were safe, Harry said the taboo.”

“Taboo?” He asked her confused.

“It’s a form of magic in which a summons is tied into a word, if anyone were to say Voldemort, Snatchers and Death Eaters would automatically be brought to your location. Harry forgot about the taboo and in a fit of rage, he said His name. We were chased through the woods and captured. When we arrived at Malfoy Manor we were separated, Harry and Ron were taken to the dungeons and I was kept in the drawing-room. I was tortured with dark magic and within an inch of my life.”

She felt the bed shift and knew that he had moved; she turned over so that they were facing each other, even in the darkness she could still his piercing green eyes staring at her.

“The Torture Curse, it’s one of the Unforgivables and it’s so named for a reason. It’s like being stabbed with white-hot knives, your bones being shattered, your organs rupturing, your blood boiling, blood filling your lungs, suffocating, like your skull’s going to explode. I felt all of that at the same time. The Torture Curse has been known to break the mind, to render you incapable of anything, to leave you a shell of a human being. The healers say that it’s a miracle I survived after the prolonged torture I was subjected to...” She trailed off, giving her head a light shake.

“When they decided that they’d had enough of using the Cruciatus on me, they turned to blades, _cursed_ blades. They carved a word into me and I will forever have it; it will never truly heal and it still looks to be only a couple of months old, but it was nine years ago now. When I still wouldn’t answer their questions they decided to let the men have a turn at trying to get me to talk.”

He felt himself stiffen at the implication of her words and he clenched his hands into tight fists, hoping it would help to calm his anger.

“I was a bloody, quivering and sobbing mess on the floor, my blood staining their precious Persian rug and as I was there, slowly dying, they taunted me. They described to me every detail of how they planned to violate me, to defile me in every way possible. Of how they planned to take turns and watch as I slowly died. They even brought in Fenrir Greyback, Alpha of a truly dark werewolf pack, he didn’t even look human when he was in his human form,” she said quietly, tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes. “They advanced on me and they started grabbing at my clothes, thankfully before things progressed further, Harry and Ron burst into the drawing-room. I was pulled up and the cursed blade was held against my throat and Harry and Ron were forced to lower their stolen wands. Dobby, a house-elf, arrived and he saved our lives and took us to a safe house that belonged to one of the Weasley boys and his wife. Dobby died that day. He was a good friend and he risked his life for ours. I was healed the best I could be given the times and we couldn’t trust anyone to have it done professionally as Voldemort controlled St, Mungo’s hospital, too. What Bowman did, his attack brought back the memories of what the Death Eaters were planning to do to me, and I just kept reliving them over and over and over again, only this time, I didn’t escape and I wasn’t rescued.”

He stared at her in worry, anger, disbelief, horror, too many emotions to name, and with her declaration, he made a decision.

“Last year, I made a deal with a demon to save Sam’s life and rather than giving me ten years before taking my soul, I was given one year due to the high demand for my soul down in hell. We spent a year trying to break my contract but ultimately we failed and I was dragged down to hell,” he went quiet but she didn’t interrupt, giving him time to collect his thoughts. “I don’t remember everything, the most horrifying memories were taken from me by Castiel, but there are still some things that I do remember. They changed me down there, they tortured me in ways I didn’t even think possible, they broke my body, my mind, my soul, and when I was on the verge of ‘dying’ they allowed me to slowly heal, and then it started again. I held out for years but I couldn’t take it anymore and the only way to stop the pain was to torture other innocent soles myself. I learned how to inflict pain in ways I didn’t even know existed. For Sam and Bobby, I was gone for four months, but time moves differently down in hell, I was there for forty years.”

In the silence, Hermione reached out and she found Dean’s hand. She took it and gave it a comforting squeeze and he returned the gesture.

“You and I, we’re not that different,” she stated softly. “We have different backgrounds, we’ve had different influences and we have different beliefs, but put that aside and you’ll see that we’re both in the business of protecting people from the supernatural and dark magic, we just do it in different ways. We both have difficult and traumatising pasts. We both fight to protect those that we care for, no matter how few. We’ve both seen and faced evil at its truest form and we’ve both survived it. The only real difference between you and I, is that I possess magic and you don’t. I was gifted with the ability to practice magic you would never dream of existing. I was gifted with the ability to see magical creatures, both pure and beautiful and dark and horrifying and you weren’t. My point being, you and I, we’re not that different and I can’t for the life of me understand why you hate me so much.” She let go of his hand and pulled hers away from him.

Before she could retreat fully his hand reached out and grabbed hers, keeping a tight hold of it. “I... I,” he sighed. “I _don’t_ hate you,” he admitted quietly, surprising her. “As much as I want to hate you, as much as my head’s telling me to, as much as it’s been engraved into me that I _should_ hate you, I don’t and I can’t. My instincts have kept me alive and they’re telling me that you’re not evil, dangerous, yes, but not evil. We’re going to need you, weapons and knives are helpful but we need your magic to take these bastards down. You’re not a bad person.”

“If I’m not a bad person, then neither are you,” she whispered, her eyes closed in exhaustion.

“That’s where you’re wrong,”

“No, I’m not,”

“I’ve killed people,”

“So have I, and my kills weren’t demon-possessed or shifters. My kills were human beings that were truly evil, that knew what they were doing, even if I only killed them in self-defence I still took their lives. No matter what they did, they were human beings. I’m an excellent judge of character, it comes from years of fighting a war followed by years of tracking, battling and capturing murderers, rapists, psychopaths and complete nut-jobs. You’re not a bad person, Dean Winchester, and believe it or not, I trust you,” were her last words before sleep claimed her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

“Anything?” Sam asked, looking over his shoulder to look at Hermione in the back seat.

They’d checked out of the motel three hours prior and after eating breakfast at a nearby diner, they were now driving around Cleveland blindingly, searching for a dark magic aura to alert Hermione’s wand to the signature.

She frowned in thought, a crease in her forehead as she stared at her wand, currently sat in her palm and spinning in circles. She pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance.

“No, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Pull over would you?”

He shrugged his shoulders before pulling over at the side of the empty road and they all stepped out of the Impala, Sam and Dean leaning against the car as Hermione paced back and forth, her wand still spinning in her palm. Sam left into the cover of the trees to quickly use the bathroom, leaving Dean leaning against the Impala with his arms folded casually over his chest, his eyes following her as she continued to pace back and forth, muttering to herself and her attention being on the wand as it spun in her palm.

“You alright?” His voice interrupted her musing.

“No, this bloody thing’s getting on my nerves and...”

“No,” he interrupted, “I meant are _you alright_?”

She halted in her steps and looked up at him, see that he was watching her carefully, his eyes searching for any tell that she was about to lie to him.

“Yes,” she replied, continuing with her pacing.

“You were almost ra...”

“No,” she stopped him. “Don’t use that word, I hate the word,” she muttered. “I was attacked and I got out alive with barely any injuries, just a few cuts and bruises, I’ve certainly had worse over the years. Kingsley will let me know if and when Kyle makes any headway with the investigation and I’m positive he will. Kyle is one of the best, I was his examiner and I was partially involved in his training, as was Harry; he knows what he’s doing and I trust him. I’m not going to lie and say that what happened didn’t affect me, because it did, mainly by bringing back memories that I’ve buried for almost a decade. But I _will_ be fine, I’ve had my phase of denial and self-loathing and it’ll take some time before I’m comfortable around others, men in particular, but I’ll get there.”

Dean didn’t allow his gaze to leave her pacing form, watching for any sign that she might break down but she didn’t, and when Sam returned from his bathroom break, Hermione’s pacing halted and she released a noise of frustration. She sighed and stopped pacing.

“I was really hoping it wasn’t going to come to this,” she grumbled.

“Come to what?” Sam asked confused.

“I first experienced dark mark when I was twelve, and since then I’ve pretty much been around it; that’s fourteen years of being in contact with dark magic. As a result, my wand is for lack of a better term, in tune with dark magic. It can sense it. But the problem is, I have never cast a dark spell, my wand has never been used for the purpose of practising dark magic or to kill in cold blood, so the ability to track it with my wand isn’t very strong, I’d have to be in less than a quarter-mile radius for it to be successful,” she explained and thoughtful frowns and expressions crossed their faces.

“So you need a wand that _has_ been used to practice dark magic?” Dean guessed.

“Yes, the greater the dark magic that’s been channelled through the wand, the stronger the connection.”

“And where are we supposed to get you a wand like that?”

“I have one,” she replied before slipping her wand into her pocket and then rooting through her beaded bag and retreating with a dark walnut wand, the handle was straight before a bend in the centre of the wood sent it at a downward angle, almost like an out of shape ‘V’.

The brothers visibly shivered and stared at the magical item with suspicious glances; they could somehow feel the darkness surrounding the object, it practically buzzed in Hermione’s hand.

“This wand belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange,” she said, looking at it in disgust. “I can’t even begin to tell you the magnitude of dark spells and curses it’s been used to channel and I can’t even begin to imagine the number of lives this wand took, nor the number of people that were tortured by it, myself included. When I was rescued from Malfoy Manor, Harry and Ron disarmed the wands of those keeping us prisoner before we escaped. Afterwards, I was given Bellatrix’s wand so that we could break into her Gringotts vault.” They nodded, showing they remembered her telling them that. “I’ve had this wand since the war ended. After a while, I earned the wand’s allegiance and it wasn’t easy to do, it took me close to two years. This wand has seen so much darkness that it resists my wants and needs of casting anything but dark magic, therefore I can’t really use it, only for very simple spells and anything else is more difficult. But if someone else were to get their hands on this wand, it wouldn’t work at all. The only reason I have kept this for so long is that it comes in useful. Not only do I have a back-up wand in case I lose mine in a duel or it is damaged but I can use it to track dark magic signatures.”

“I can see the logic in that,” Sam agreed. “So how do you use it?”

“I have to exert my dominance over the wand, I have to force it to connect to my magic and listen to my wishes. As I said, if I was casting a dark spell, I wouldn’t have any problems with it, but seeing as I’m not, the wand’s going to be stubborn and put up a fight.”

“You speak as though it’s alive,” Dean commented.

“That’s because it is, well, in a sense it is; wands are quasi-sentient. Wands are one of the most highly magical objects you can find, along with items such as brooms. Wands are made of wood that is imbued with a magical core, such as a unicorn hair, phoenix feather, dragon heartstrings, veela hair, troll whiskers, things of that sort. It’s these magical cores in which make the wand as it. For example, wands that contain a unicorn hair core are very difficult to turn to the dark arts as a unicorn is one of the purest magical creatures to exist. It’s said that if you are to slay a creature of such innocence, that you are to be cursed for the rest of your life in a state that is neither living nor dead. Whereas a dragon heartstring core is the most susceptible to being turned to the dark arts. Although they are known to produce powerful wands and flamboyant spells, due to their temperamental nature they’re also prone to accidents.”

“Now, a phoenix feather core is a very rare substance to have in a wand. They are known to produce powerful magics and to act of its own accord in times of trouble. Since a phoenix is one of the most independent and detached magical creatures to exist, it’s extremely hard for a person to win the wand’s allegiance and it’s a rare occurrence for that to happen. The wood properties also affect the power of the wand, as does the length and maker of the wand, but we’ll get into that another time, right now we have Death Eaters to catch before they can hurt anyone else.” They blinked at her, dumbfounded by what she’d just explained and a small smile pulled at her mouth at their confused, surprised expressions. “From what I’ve learned from experience, this wand can detect dark magic signatures from up to three miles away, the stronger the aura, the better the connection.”

She laid the wand flat in her palm. “ _Point me_ ,” she whispered softly. The wand didn’t move. “ _Point me_ ,” she said louder. The wand buzzed and vibrated gently in her palm but it wasn’t enough. She narrowed her eyes into slits. “ _Point me_ ,” she demanded of the wand. On cue, the wand flew up, hovering above her palm and it spun rapidly in circles.

“Is it working?” Sam asked, as they all looked to the wand spinning ominously above her hand.

“Yes, we’ll have to give it some time to...” The wand came to a sudden stop, pointing north. “Never mind, the wand has spoken, we need to head north.”

“You sure?” Dean asked.

She looked up at him and their eyes met. “Yes, I’m sure, this wand will take us to where we need to be, as much as I hate to admit it, it’s never let me down before, even if it is a stubborn arse.” He snorted at her before they all clambered back into the Impala. “Right, head north until I say.” And with that, they continued on their search, Hermione with her eyes locked on the wand leading them to their targets, Dean listening to her instructions and Sam keeping an eye out for any buildings or land.

“Aright, Dean, take the next left,” Hermione instructed.

“I can’t, there is no left.”

“Dean, you need to take the next left, that’s where the wand’s pointing us.”

“There is no left,” he repeated annoyed.

“Hang on,” Sam intervened before an argument broke out and he squinted his eyes, seeing something in the distance. “Hermione’s right, take the next left.”

“But...”

“Dean, take the next left in five, four, three, two, one, now!”

“Fuck!” Dean cursed as he turned the car in a sharp left and just as he was about to crash into a road barrier, there was a sudden shimmer and another road appeared before them from out of nowhere.

“What the fuck was that?” Dean asked, shaking his head confused and peering over his shoulder out of the back window, seeing there was no road barrier or obstacles obscuring the turning from view; it was easily seen and accessible. 

“Muggle Repelling Charm, it does as exactly as the charm is named, it hides things from muggles. Say there’s a magical house that’s hidden from muggles, the way it works it that as soon as a muggle is in the vicinity it’ll make them need to be somewhere else, it’ll make them need to go a different way, or make them forget where you were going, it’ll make them see nothing when, in fact, there’s something right in front of them. I could see the turn in the road as I’m a witch, but you couldn’t with you being a muggle. Sam, _how_ did you know it was there?” She asked him intrigued.

“I’m not quite sure, I just saw a strange shimmer and knew something wasn’t right, I guess being around you and your magic is helping me to become aware of it when it’s around me, even if it’s hidden.”

She hummed. “I suppose that’s possible,” she mused. “Anyway, this means we’re on the right track, wherever we are was hidden from muggles which means there’s magical folk nearby. Just continue to follow the road.”

Twenty minutes later they could see an old abandoned warehouse up ahead.

“Dean, pull over just here,” she gestured towards a group of trees and he did as she instructed. They all climbed out of the car and Hermione waved her wand casting a Disillusionment Charm on the car to hide it should someone come by.

“What did you do to Baby?” Dean glared at her.

“Relax, Patrick, she’s perfectly fine, just camouflaged into her surroundings so that no one will see it if they pass by, she’s all but invisible.” They both looked surprised and impressed. “I’ll do the same for us, a Notice-Me-Not Charm,” she explained as she cast the spell around them along with a _Silencio_ for good measure. “I need to check the building to see just what we’re dealing with,” she informed them.

“And how will you do that?” Sam asked curiously.

“ _Homenum Revelio_ ,” Hermione muttered, pointing her wand towards the warehouse, of which, they currently stood approximately five hundred feet away from. Sam and Dean watched as small red orbs suddenly hovered above the warehouse.

“What does that mean?” Sam asked, when he realised that Hermione hadn’t spoken for a short while, apparently not being pleased or comfortable with the results of her spell casting.

“A blood bath,” she said quietly.

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“A blood bath,” she repeated louder. “Those red orbs represent every individual that is inside that building.”

Their eyes widened as they did their best to count the red orbs but there were too many.

“There has to be at least a hundred people in there,” Sam spoke.

“One-hundred and sixty-three actually,” she corrected and they spluttered. “Boys, I think we just found Death Eater Headquarters. We’re going to need backup,” she sighed. “Phone?”

Sam handed his to her, his eyes still on the red orbs. She punched some numbers into the keypad and put the phone on loudspeaker.

“Thank you for calling the Ministry of Magic, how may I help you?” The receptionist answered with a bored tone to her voice, the brothers noting that this woman didn’t have a British accent, rather she had a slight southern lilt to her tone.

“This is Head Auror Hermione Granger of the MLE Department for Muggles from the British Ministry of Magic, I would like to speak with Minister Allister.”

The line went quiet for several long seconds.

“Hermione Granger?” The woman squealed in excitement.

“Yes, that’s me,” Hermione sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“Merlin! I just love you, I’m your biggest fan...”

“Sorry to interrupt but I must speak to Minister Allister within the next five minutes. If you give me your name I’ll owl you an autograph and a few trinkets.”

“That’s amazing, Miss. Granger, thank you so much, my name’s Sarah Peterson. I just love...” Hermione cleared her throat, interrupting her. “Right, sorry, I’m calm, I’ll be right back with Minister Allister.”

“Thank you,” Hermione replied.

“Well, that went better than last time,” Sam commented, looking amused at the woman’s fangirling of Hermione and she shrugged her shoulders in reply, as if saying she was used to such behaviour and occurrences. It was exactly five minutes later when the Minister’s voice broke through the speaker.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Head Auror Granger?”

“It’s time,” Hermione said in lieu of a greeting and she heard the sharp intake of breath over the line.

“Are you... Are you certain?”

“Positive,” she replied confidently. “I’m currently standing five hundred feet from a warehouse that indicates there is movement from one hundred and sixty-three individuals. The warehouse appears to have been once abandoned and is now protected by Muggle Repellent Charms. I’ve run a few diagnostic spells whilst I waited for you to be retrieved and there are several dark curses and spells surrounding the warehouse and I can’t get any closer due to the wardings. What I need from you is for you to contact Minister Shacklebolt and inform him of what I’ve just told you. I’m going to need at least eighty Magical Law Enforcement personnel and St. Helga’s should be prepared for an income of injured Death Eaters and Aurors. I’m also going to need five Curse Breakers and for you to coordinate with the Muggle Mayor of Cleveland, Tennessee. I need a blueprint of the building so I can know my layout and figure out the best way to enter the building with minimal casualties. Do you understand?” There was no answer. “Minister!” She snapped.

“Oh, yes, I understand.”

“Good, I’ll continue to cast some more diagnostic spells whilst I wait for backup; I want everything within less than thirty minutes, we’re on a time crunch and we can’t let them get away, this may be the only chance we have to take them out once and for all. I’ll send you my coordinates so that port-keys for both British and American Aurors can be approved, as well as you getting me the blueprints I need. Thirty minutes,” Hermione reminded before ending the call, quickly texting the coordinates and then flipping the phone shut and handing it back to Sam.

The brothers stared at her in various levels of surprise, approval and amusement.

“Did you just give orders to the magical equivalent of the President of the United States?” Sam questioned awed.

“Yes, she’s a lovely woman, a bit ditsy, but she doesn’t have a brave bone in her body. She’s scared of a bloody fly; she couldn’t hit a three hundred pound target with a _Stupefy_ at two feet away. She may be good at politics but she’s completely useless when it comes to war and battle, which, sadly, is my area of expertise,” Hermione answered before turning away from them and digging through her beaded bag, pulling out a pile of clothes.

She pointed her wand at the clothes in her hand and then to herself and before their eyes her clothing changed to flat black knee-high boots, black skinny jeans and a black long-sleeved t-shirt. They both blinked in surprise. Next, she pulled out a set of white robes, Auror robes with the Ministry logo over the right breast and she slipped them on, fastening the buttons and then hiding Bellatrix’s wand in her boot for easy access should she need it. After tying her hair back from her face in a ponytail, she cast a series of Glamour Charms over her neck and face to hide her bruises and cuts -much to their awe- from Harry and the other Aurors, not wishing to have to explain what happened or for Harry to lose his temper.

She then turned away from them and faced the warehouse, her wand hand moving in quick and intricate patterns and swirls of colour and light began to surround her as she muttered under her breath.

“Boys, I need you to get out of here, go back to the motel, if I make it out I’ll meet you there.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hang on a minute, what the hell do you mean _if_ you make it?” Sam asked, blinking slowly and a frown pulling at his brow

“And go back to the motel?” Dean questioned looking furious.

“Yes to both. I don’t want you here, I can’t have you here. I don’t want you getting injured, maybe if it was only five Death Eaters we could take them, but we’re talking about a bloody _army_. If you get caught by a ricocheting spell, it could kill you as you have no way to defend yourselves against it. I won’t win a battle whilst worrying about your safety, I need to be focused and without distraction.”

“But...”

“No,” she sighed, stopping in her spell work and turning to face them. “Look, I may be being a bit forward but during our short time together, I now consider you both to be my friends,” she confessed. “My friends are my family and I protect my family. You have no idea of what you’d be walking into and you’d be more of a hindrance than a help.”

“We’re not useless and we’re not leaving you,” Dean’s anger began to rise.

“I’m not saying you’re useless, I know very well how adept you are at dealing with the supernatural, but these are Death Eaters; they have magic that can kill you before you even blink, they are capable of things you can’t even imagine, things _I_ can’t even imagine. I’m not putting you in that kind of danger, I’m not willing to take that risk.”

“We’re _not_ leaving you!” He shouted at her.

“Why the bloody hell not?” She demanded, her own voice rising in frustration.

“You know very well why!” 

They were now standing in front of each other, face to face, their noses almost touching as they stared each other down, neither willing to be the first to back down. Sam watched on from the sidelines as he leaned back against the camouflaged Impala, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets and his eyes darting between them.

“No, I don’t. Why do you refuse to leave? I’m trying to protect you. If anything were to happen to me it doesn’t matter, I’m replaceable. You’re not!”

He didn’t respond, just stared at her and when she’d waited long enough without receiving a response, she turned her back and made to walk away but something stopped her.

Dean’s hand shot out and gripped her wrist, giving her a tug until she was spun around and facing him once more. Before she could question his actions, demand that he release her or even blink, he ducked his head and his mouth pressed against hers.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

Dean had no idea what possessed him to kiss her, but he’d be lying if he denied that he hadn’t thought about doing it for a few days now. It was partially the reason he’d been so cold towards her when they’d first met. Admitting that he was attracted to a witch disgusted him; he _should_ hate her and her kind. He _should_ hate what she stood for and he definitely _shouldn’t_ have wanted to get into her pants, no matter how hot she was or attractive her accent was.

But then things slowly began to unfold. Castiel was her guardian Angel and had been since she was a child. He vouched for her and was under his protection. He’d shown the most emotion Dean had ever seen from the usually stoic Angel after only being with her for a short time. She’d worked a case with Bobby in the past and he vouched for her, he even seemed to like her, which was a miracle in itself. She’d fought in battles from the young age of twelve and she’d helped to win a war at the age of eighteen, a time when most teenagers were graduating school and had no idea what to do with their lives. She dedicated her life to protecting people from dark magic, the supernatural and magical creatures. She was honest, she was beautiful, she was strong and powerful. She was kind and considerate and fucking hell, she ate more than him _and_ she loved pie, too! Maybe even more than he did!

He tried to hate her because he’d been taught to for as long as he could remember, but she was far too different to the witches he’d faced. She’d saved his life. She hadn’t tried to kill him, even when he shot her and she’d almost died. In fact, all she did in retaliation was send a few birds to attack him and Castiel received the same treatment for not answering her calls for the last couple of years, and he knew he deserved worse. She all but swore to him that she would put his life as well as Sam’s above her own.

She’d told him of her past, of the war and her world. She’d told him of her torture, something that she hadn’t done with Sam and he’d witnessed how close the two had become in a short amount of time. In return, he told her of his time in hell, he hadn’t really spoken about it in much detail, not even to Sam or Bobby, but she was the first person he had willingly spoken to about the dark, horrifying topic and it hadn’t felt all that worrying or unnatural to him, either.

When she’d been attacked, a wave of worry and fear like he couldn’t remember feeling coursed through him, shocking him in a way he hadn’t thought possible. She’d broken down; she’d come to him, not Sam. It was _him_ that she clung to, that she sought comfort and protection from. It was _him_ that she came to the previous night when she was upset, not Sam, and it was _him_ that she’d opened up to.

He tried to deny it, he honestly did, but he couldn’t any longer. There was just something about her, something magnetising that drew him towards her, and like a moth to a flame, he felt himself being pulled to her presence. A thought briefly crossed his mind that she could be responsible, maybe a Love Spell of some kind, but he dismissed it. First;y, he didn’t know if they existed and secondly, if they did he was sure she would never cast one on him. It wasn’t in her nature, he _knew_ that.

When she’d told him that he and Sam had to leave and wait for her to come back, _if_ she survived, he felt dread fill him. There was no way in hell he was leaving her. Lucifer himself would be released from the cage before he left her, and that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen. To put it mildly, it was a right pain in the ass to get him in there in the first place.

And when they were arguing, she was so close and he could smell that apple and caramel scent that reminded him of pie, a smell he had come to associate with her. Their noses were almost touching and they were looking into each other’s eyes, glaring really, and he could feel himself drowning in her chocolate brown orbs.

It was too hard to deny his attraction to her, or the fact that he wanted to kiss her and she was so close, but then she turned away from him and he couldn’t stop himself. He reached out to grab her wrist and tugged her close until she was facing him. Her eyes had widened somewhat and before she could question him, he did what he’d wanted to do for days. He ducked his head and kissed her.

Her lips were soft and plump, a little chap in the right corner where he’d witnessed on several occasions, her nibbling at the area whilst she read a book or went over her notes with a thoughtful frown.

It was then that he realised that she hadn’t responded; she’d tensed up. A feeling of rejection and humiliation filled him and as he made to pull away, he felt her body relax and her mouth pressed a little harder against his in response.

~000~000~000~

It wasn’t a stretch to say Hermione was in a fair state of shock. She hadn’t expected Dean to just up and kiss her!

She’ll admit that she thought Dean was handsome, alright, she was lying; she believed he was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. But for him to kiss her? Well, she’d never seen that coming.

She’d be lying if she said the thought of kissing him hadn’t crossed her mind because on occasion it had. But for him to kiss her? What was going through his mind?

Their _relationship_ for lack of a better term, had changed over the course of their time spent together, and certainly since their first meeting when he’d shot and almost killed her. At first, he’d been wary around her, he glared in her direction and his hand jumped towards his handgun when he witnessed her magic usage. He was distrustful of her; he wouldn’t even eat the bloody food he’d watched her stand and cook for them.

He thought every word she spoke was a lie and he didn’t believe that she wasn’t a dark magic practitioner. She could understand his hatred of her kind; he was raised by a Hunter, he was raised to protect people from dark magic and the supernatural, but what she didn’t understand was his obvious hatred for _her_ in particular.

But then things started to change. The first day or so had been tiring for her, constantly having to defend herself against his verbal attacks and hatred, but then they’d started working the case together and miraculously he seemed to warm up to her. She didn’t know what it was, maybe it was something Sam had said to him when she wasn’t with them, maybe it was something Bobby had said on the phone to him, it could’ve even been him seeing that she wasn’t the evil witch he thought she was, proving him wrong countless times. But the true changes came after her attack from Bowman. _He_ was the one that allowed her to cling to him and ruin his shirt with her tears, and he didn’t leave her when the police arrived.

He didn’t push her when she was in a state of shock or denial and refused to eat but allowed her the time she needed. He didn’t force her to speak in the car the next day, instead, he allowed her to come to terms with the attack on her own way as he listened to his music and Sam read his book. And the previous night, she didn’t know what had possessed her to do it, but when she’d woken from her nightmare, her only thought had been that she didn’t want to be alone, and without thought, she’d headed to the Winchester brother’s room.

They’d sat in silence and watched the crappy film that was playing on the TV and when that ended, he’d coaxed her into talking the attack it in a way that she didn’t feel forced, that she didn’t feel like he was judging her and he even reciprocated, explaining about his past and his time spent in hell.

She didn’t know why and she didn’t know what it was, but there was something different about Dean Winchester. Yes, she was physically attracted to him, who wouldn’t be? But she was also drawn to him; it was as if something was pulling her, forcing her to want to be in his presence. It was odd and she _knew_ it wasn’t normal, given the life that she lived and the knowledge she held, it definitely wasn’t normal and there had to be something at work, or at least, that’s what she told herself for justifying her wanting to be near him.

Just like her, there was a darkness to him, even if it was hidden and buried deep down. Just like her, he had a difficult upbringing. Just like her, he had a traumatising past. Just like her, he fought hard to protect people from the supernatural. Just like her, he was cautious and tainted. He was just like her! They had more in common that anyone she had ever met, even Harry.

Having the urge to be near him made her behave the way she did, well, partially at least. She teased him to annoy him because it was amusing and fun, not only for her, but for Sam, too, and she suspected the brothers didn’t have a lot of laughter in their lives. She teased him because it got a rise out of him, forcing him to interact with her. Before it was glare or a gun pointed in her direction but now it was a laugh or a returned comment. She teased him because it distracted her from her thoughts of wanting to be around him.

She had thought that her attraction -she refused to call it anything more- was one sided and would quickly diminish once the case was over and they went their separate ways, never to see each other again. But then some things just didn’t add up. She’d caught him staring at her on more than one occasion, he’d seemed protective of her when he noticed that Bowman had made her feel uncomfortable, he didn’t leave her after the attack, he let her share his bed when he saw how upset she’d been after her nightmare, and she noticed that he’d taken an interest in her magic, listening just as attentively as Sam when she was explaining certain aspects or answering questions. Or, at least, that’s what she told herself.

She knew she was pretty, particularly when she put some effort into her appearance, even she wasn’t blind to the changes in her body since her time at Hogwarts. She was pretty but she wasn’t beautiful. Not like Luna’s innocent and ethereal beauty, or Fleur’s stunning veela beauty, or Ginny’s striking beauty with her vivid red hair that made her stand out in a crowd. Hermione was sure that if she wasn’t famous, she could easily blend into the crowd and no one would notice her. So why would Dean Winchester, one of the most handsome men she had ever met, be interested in someone like her? Exactly, he wouldn’t! A man that walks into a room and has women practically drooling over him, she’d witnessed it several times: at the bar, at the diner, at the cafe, even in the bloody car park of the motel.

Something inside her _needed_ to protect both him and Sam, she needed them safe and out of danger. Why couldn’t he see she was trying to keep him out of harm’s way? He refused to leave her and then proceeded to argue with her and then she turned to walk away.

For him to kiss her was not what she’d been expecting, not at all. When he ducked down and his lips pressed against hers, her mind and body froze in surprise, and just when she could feel his hesitation at her lack of response, she mentally gave herself slap and seeing as he’d been the one to make the first move, she did what she’d been thinking of doing for days.

Just before he pulled away, she pressed her lips against his a little harder in response to Dean’s advances. Upon his realisation that she wasn’t rejecting him, he released his grasp on her wrist and his hands relocated to her hips, giving her a tug so that she stepped into him and his hands slipped around to the small of her back, holding her against him, whilst her hands moved to his biceps, gripping the fabric of his well-worn leather jacket.

Hermione’s knees almost collapsed when Dean nibbled at her lip and soothed it with a swipe of his tongue, it moving past her lips to be met by hers when she released a little gasp.

~000~000~000~

Sam stared in surprise at the sight of Hermione and his brother in their current position before he snorted and shook his head. The sexual tension between the two of them had been there since day one and he wasn’t the only one to notice it; Bobby had, too. In fact, they had a bet going on whether Hermione and Dean would act on it, how long it would take and who would be the first to crack.

It seemed Sam owed Bobby fifty dollars as he’d bet on yes to the first, Hermione to crack first and for it to take two days. Bobby had bet yes, for Dean to be the first to crack and for it to take three days; he was the closest with it now being day five since their meeting. It may be considered a short amount of time for anything to occur between them, but they were in close quarters and surrounded by danger and pressure, aspects that heightened emotions and affected behaviour.

Sam removed his phone from his pocket, snapped a photo of the two completely engrossed in each other and oblivious to their surroundings, before quickly sending it to Bobby and congratulating him on his winnings. The reply was instantaneous with nothing but a “Told you so, Idjit.” Sam snorted at the gruff Hunter’s response and seeing that Hermione and Dean still hadn’t come back to reality and didn’t seem to show any signs of doing so soon, he leaned back against the invisible Impala, got himself comfortable and busied himself with playing a game of Tetris on his phone.

A few minutes later, he cursed in annoyance when the game ended and the noise seemed to startle Hermione and she sprung away from Dean, letting out a little noise as she almost slipped on the dry ground. At the sound, Sam lifted his head and snorted in amusement.

Dean stared at Hermione heatedly as he tried to catch his breath and Hermione refused to look at anyone but the ground whilst fiddling with her fingers. She, too, was trying to catch her breath, her lips were swollen and red and her face flushed pink.

Sam snorted once more. “It’s about time,” he commented amusedly.

Hermione cleared her throat and turned around, facing away from them. “You have to go; I suspect the others will be arriving shortly,” she spoke as she crouched down to pick up her wand which she’d dropped during the kiss.

“We’re not leaving you,” Dean’s tone held no room for argument but that didn’t stop her from trying.

“It’s too danger...”

“No,”

She cleared her throat once more and let out a sigh, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear and out of her face, it having fallen free from her ponytail. “Fine, you can stay,” she begrudgingly agreed. “But I need you to do everything that I tell you to, it’s for your safety.”

Dean made to argue but Sam cut in before he could, who knew how long they’d be glued to one another if it were to result in another kiss?

“That’s fine, Hermione. We’ll listen and we won’t interfere,” he promised. 

She turned around and looked at Sam before looking at Dean shyly and the corners of his mouth quirked at her sudden and uncharacteristic shyness. She grabbed her beaded bag and rummaged around inside, pulling out two sets of white robes that were identical to hers.

“You’ll have to wear these; we don’t want anyone on our side mistaking you for a Death Eater. I would also like to keep your identities a secret, so make sure that your hoods are up.”

“Why do we have to stay hidden?” Sam asked.

“You’re muggles,” she shrugged her shoulders. “My team won’t have a problem with you _being_ muggles but they will have a problem with you getting involved in wizarding affairs. They believe that you should stick to your world and we’ll return the sentiment; we don’t interfere in your matters, so you shouldn’t with ours. Some also don’t like the fact that you’re Hunters, some of you have actually killed our kind of witches and wizards, as well as werewolves and other creatures.”

“Wait, there’s two types of werewolves?” Sam questioned in surprise, his eyes widening a fraction, his brow furrowing and his mouth pulling down at the corners.

“Yes, I’ll explain later, just _please_ keep your hoods up.” They nodded before slipping on the robes and Hermione had to alter them to fit their frames since they were her robes and they were much bigger than her smaller frame.

“There’s going to be a lot of ricocheting spells and curses; you have to watch out for the darker colours and the neon colours, they’re the most dangerous and they’ll do the most damage. One spell, in particular, _Avada Kedavra_ , it’s the Killing Curse and it _will_ be used by every Death Eater in there. If you see a neon green light, you get out of the way and do it fast.” They nodded in understanding and she turned to Sam. “Give me your arm.”

He looked confused but did as she said and she reached out, taking it in her hand and pushing up his robe sleeve to reveal his forearm and she summoned a marker pen from her beaded bag before uncapping it and proceeding to draw several runes on his skin.

“What are you doing?”

“There’s no such thing as Protection Spells and Charms but there are ancient runes. I’m drawing them onto your skin to hopefully give you a little more protection. It won’t stop anything dangerous but minor forms of magic shouldn’t be a problem, so I’m giving you the runes for protection, luck, strength, light, energy, magic and success. They won’t be as strong as they usually would be due to them being rushed and I won’t be able to feed my magic into them since it’s a lengthy process and we don’t have time, but still, it’s better than nothing,” she explained before dropping his arm and stepping back.

Dean held out his arm for her before she’d even asked for it and she felt her cheeks heat up as she felt his eyes watching her as she drew the runes onto his forearm.

“There,” she cleared her throat and stepped back from him. “Onto my next point, I have a lot of devices that as muggles you should be able to use without any difficulty.”

“ _Magical_ items?” Sam perked up. He was practically bouncing up and down in excitement and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yes, just give me a second whilst I find them out.” She went digging through her beaded bag until she pulled out what looked to be three policemen’s arsenal belts. “None of these items will kill and they were not made to injure, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t.” She handed them one each and instructed them to tie them around their waists, as she did the same beneath her robes, hiding them from sight. “Listen carefully, we’ve not got long before the others arrive and I still have to prepare. First, we have Peruvian Instant Dark Powder, it does exactly as it’s named. You take the pellet and throw it onto the ground and instant black cloud will fill the area, this can be used in offence, but that makes it difficult for yourself. It’s best to use it as a distraction to escape; it will cover you so you have time to get out. They outnumber us by two to one, we’ve faced worse odds in the past and we’ve won, so I’m not particularly worried, but that doesn’t mean that things can’t go wrong. If it does and you have to retreat, you must and you should get as far away from here as possible, no arguments.” She glared at them both, reinforcing her words.

“Next we have Decoy Detonators, to activate simply press the red button and place it on the ground. It will do the rest itself, even going as far as to find its target and relocating itself. It’s basically a self-portable small explosion.” They looked impressed. “This is a Portable Swamp, again, fairly explanatory, just throw it and when it lands it will activate. This is a Weasley’s Snowstorm, throw it in the air and get out of the way. Weather in Bottle, just uncap it and run. Now, onto the most impressive of magical products, fireworks; great distraction. We have Bang Bang Bang Boggarts, they’ll give the opponent a fright when they see them, for reasons that you won’t understand and you don’t want to, trust me. We also have Thor’s Thunder Crackers, Thestral Thrashers and Whack Trance Whammy Rockets. All of these products were created by Fred and George Weasley,” she said proudly. “Some of them specifically for the war and the others we just found useful. Do you think you can remember them?” They nodded quickly, slight frowns on their faces as they looked over the products and committed them to memory. “Good, now get whatever you need.”

They both turned to the Impala and then looked back to Hermione when they couldn’t see it due to its magical camouflage. She rolled her eyes but summoned the weapons case from the car.

“You’ll want weapons that are easy for you to conceal and carry,” she said and they both grabbed several handguns and a knife each. “I’ll cast Silencing Charms over your guns, that way the Death Eaters won’t know that you’re muggles, or that we have muggle weapons that can kill instantly.” Within minutes she had their guns spelled and the weapons case safely in the car. “Just remember, only kill if you have to, otherwise just incapacitate.”

Just as Hermione finished speaking, the port-keys arrived with reinforcements.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 6

“Hoods up, boys,” Hermione instructed as Harry approached her.

She quickly met him halfway and they greeted with a hug and when they pulled back from each other, he gestured to the hooded Sam and Dean and she nodded to his unasked question.

“They refused to leave, I’ve explained the rules, they know the consequences and I’ve given them as much protection as I could with rushed and incomplete runes.”

“Their death wish,” Harry shrugged unbothered by their presence. “I can’t believe you actually found them.”

“Me either, we’ve been waiting for this for almost a decade,” she muttered.

“Let’s get it over with,” he agreed and he handed her the rolled-up blueprints she’d asked for. “Gift from Kingsley,”

“Thanks, let’s get the layout figured out whilst the others prepare.”

A table was conjured and they unrolled the blueprints, for twenty minutes they studied the blueprints and when they had come up with a plan, they stepped back and banished the table and blueprints, before getting everyone to crowd around. As this took place, the five Curse Breakers set to removing the wards and curses protecting the building.

“Okay, everyone, this is the moment we’ve been waiting for,” Hermione started. “For almost a decade we’ve been hunting these murderous psychopaths and the time has finally come to put them all where they belong. After today, our world, our families, our businesses, our future, will be safe and protected and it will be because of you; your hard work, determination and bravery. You have dedicated your lives to protecting the innocent and the time has come to do that once more. I’m not going to sugar coat it, we’re about to walk into what I am sure is going to be a blood bath, but, I’m confident that you’re all capable of handling yourselves. Due to the large number of Death Eaters proven to be in the building, we will be at a ratio of one Auror to two Death Eaters, which I know you are more than capable of handling.”

“Well all know what these Death Eaters are capable of, we’ve all seen the hurt they’ve caused and it’s now that we have the opportunity to prevent it from happening again. We know this is going to be dangerous, so before we discuss strategies, if there is anyone here that wishes to leave, you may do so now and without judgment,” Harry said, but no one moved or spoke up. “Alright then, let’s begin.”

“As soon as the wards and curses protecting the warehouse are removed, you will be separated into five teams. One team will be led by myself, and for those that don’t know, I am Head Auror Hermione Granger. Another team will be led by Head Auror Harry Potter, another by Head Auror Charles, the fourth team will be headed by Deputy Auror Valentino and the final team will be headed by Deputy Auror Lance. The first four teams will be inside the warehouse and the final team is to be tasked with patrolling the perimeter so that if there are any escapees, they can be caught and detained quickly. There are four entrances into the building, two on the ground floor, one on the first floor and the final entrance is on the roof; we will each take an entrance. Once the mission begins, Anti-apparition wards will be erected meaning neither us nor the Death Eaters will be able to escape through apparition,” Hermione explained.

“Some of these Death Eaters fought in the war, they have the most experience and are more ruthless. Luckily for us, _most_ of the Death Eaters are new recruits from after the war, some are still in their teenage years. They don’t have the experience we do, nor do they have the magical confidence in spell casting or shield charms. But, they’ll be desperate and a desperate wizard is a dangerous wizard.”

“What Harry’s trying to say is be careful, always be on your guard and don’t let your opponent get the best of you, don’t show weakness and don’t give them ammunition that they can use against you.” Hermione’s searched the gathered Aurors and a nod from the Senior Curse Breaker let her know his job was done. “Okay, it seems we’re ready. Does everybody have their standard arsenal belts and are they secure and fully stocked?” Everyone chorused their confirmations. “Alright then, we’ll split into groups and get this over with, I want this finished before sundown so we can all go home to our families. Port-keys to both the British and American Ministries and St. Helga’s are on standby.”

“Good luck, everyone,” Harry finished.

~000~000~000~

“I thought she was joking when she said it was going to be a blood bath,” Sam said to Dean as they crouched behind an old oil barrel, waiting for the barrage of ricocheting spells to change direction, so they could rejoin the fight that had already been going on for almost an hour.

“Why? She’s never lied to us and you read the book about the war.”

“Well yeah, but still, I just thought she was messing with us, you know, trying to make us leave by lying to us?”

“She wouldn’t lie to us,” Dean defended her and he cursed when a ricocheting spell hit off the side of the oil barrel and barely missed his shoulder.

“You kissed her,” Sam commented.

“And?”

“And you kissed her. You finally admitted to yourself that you like her?”

Dean sent Sam a glare, but seeing that his brother wasn’t going to back down, he scowled at him. “Fine, I _like_ her, she’s different,” he confessed.

“Different?”

“Different!” He snapped, ending the conversation. “I haven’t seen Hermione since we entered the building.”

“Maybe because everyone’s wearing identical white robes,” Sam pointed out. “You don’t have to worry about her, she can handle herself.”

“I know, I was there, too,” Dean said proudly, remembering the moment when they’d entered the building and Hermione had incapacitated five Death Eaters with only two spells and in less than ten seconds.

“Right, so what do you say, shall we get back in this fight so you may be reunited with your love?”

Dean punched Sam in the arm before they both dived away from the oil barrel that was hit with a spell and it exploded.

“I think they’re trying to kill us,” Sam called.

“Well they are called Death Eaters, Sammy,” Dean rolled his eyes.

He grabbed one of the decoy detonators from his arsenal belt and activated it, it found its target and when it exploded, it knocked a large metal shelving unit over, landing on three Death Eaters that had been duelling against one Auror.

Dean grabbed the handgun from his waistband and surged forward along with Sam and remembering Hermione’s words on not killing unless they had to, they focused their aims on shoulders and knees, and they were grateful that she’d silenced their weapons, making it easier for them to get away with it.

They came to the stairs and seeing that the Aurors seemed to have the upper hand, they ascended the staircase leading to the first floor. That floor had far more damage than the last and twice as many casualties, both Aurors and Death Eaters. Some were injured and fought through the pain, some were severely injured and fought from the floor and others were dead. It was obvious to them that the most experienced fighters were on this floor, and the ground level was likely the new recruits.

“Do you see her?” Dean asked Sam, his eyes scanning the robed figures.

“No, I’m sure she’s fine, let’s just concentrate on helping to end this war for them. We end it and she’ll be safe.”

“You go left and I’ll take the right,” Dean instructed and they separated, moving through the battle and taking down Death Eaters where they could, whilst using items from the arsenal belt and dodging ricocheting spells.

After thirty minutes they finally met back up and their eyes were drawn to the staircase that led to the roof.

“They can handle things down here,” Sam confirmed, not even needing Dean to speak to know what he was thinking. “They’re no longer massively outnumbered and they know what they’re doing, it should be over soon enough.”

They nodded to each other before climbing the stairs and kicking open the door, the sun was high in the sky but would be soon lowering and Hermione wanted the battle over by sundown; that meant they had to get a move on.

“Hey! Do you have any idea how much these robes cost!” A voice called out enraged. A voice Dean would recognise anywhere, it was Hermione. “These aren’t your standard Auror robes; they have dragon hide properties and protection runal magic infused into the fabric. They cost me an entire month’s wage, they cost a bloody a fortune, you insensitive arseholes!” She bellowed and Sam snorted as his eyes searched the roof, looking for anyone that may need help.

Dean’s eyes cut to her and her hood had long since fallen down, revealing her identity. Her robes seemed to have caught fire and she’d recently put it out as smoke still surrounded the bottom of the robe.

He felt anger flood him when he saw she had dirt covering her robes and face, cuts littering her arms as the blood soaked through the robe sleeves and she had a hole burnt out of her robe sleeve, revealing a burn on her arm close to her shoulder. An alarming pool of blood soaked through the side of her robe and she had a large gash on her forehead, blood pouring from the wound and down the side of her face.

They’d hurt her! He couldn’t control the rage as he saw two Death Eaters both throw a neon green light her way and she barely dodged it in time. He’d seen that spell several times that day and witnessed several of the men in white robes come to death instantly. He knew what it was.

He pointed his handgun at them and took aim and just as he was about to pull the trigger, he felt a ricocheting spell slam into him and he was sent flying off his feet across the roof, smashing into the brick wall near the door and he fell to the floor. He groaned in pain and tried to push himself up but it hurt when he did so. He definitely had some broken ribs.

“Dean!” Sam yelled in panic and he rushed to his side.

His yell distracted Hermione and she was hit square in the chest with a neon yellow light.

Dean watched in horror, as her wand fell from her hand and she crumbled to the floor, her body writhing on the ground as a blood-curdling scream tore from her throat; no one took notice being too busy with their own duels. The Death Eaters cackled in glee and taunted her, spitting insults.

Dean saw red, _literally_ , as the blood from her wounds worsened and seeped onto the floor in a puddle around her.

Without a care for the pain he was in, he pushed himself up onto his feet and left a horrified Sam, he ran towards Hermione and he didn’t care what she said or what she would say to him afterwards, he _was_ killing the bastards for hurting her.

He aimed his handgun and with two pulls of the trigger, he hit one in the chest and the other in the head, they both crumbled to the floor. The first Death Eater slowly bleeding to death and the other was already dead before he’d hit the ground. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He ran to her and dropped onto his knees beside her and he felt bile rise up his throat as her body spasmed on the ground, she was laid in a pool of her own blood and she sobbed as she waited for the pain to ebb. Dean was careful when he shifted her into his arms, supporting her as he looked down at her. He could feel her body shaking and hear her teeth grinding as tears streamed down her face.

He didn’t know how long he held her against him, not caring that he was sat in the middle of the battlefield with ricocheting spells flying past him, bodies crumpling to the floor in either death or unconsciousness and rubble surrounding them.

“What can I do?” He asked desperately when he couldn’t take it anymore. “How can I help you?”

“You can’t,” Hermione sobbed. “After effects, they’ll wear off.”

He kept hold of her until her sobs died down into cries, then sniffles and finally her body stopped with the shaking and spasms, after what felt like hours but was most likely only minutes.

“Thank you,” she whispered and he wiped her tears away with his thumb, followed by running it over her cheekbone soothingly.

“What the fuck was that? What did they do to you?”

“The Torture Curse,” she muttered.

His fury doubled. If the bastards weren’t already dead, he _would’ve_ killed them; he was still restraining himself from shooting the fuckers again, whether they were dead or not, just to prove a point.

“Are they dead?” Her voice was hoarse from the screaming.

“Yes,” he replied, waiting for her to announce her disapproval, but she didn’t, she merely nodded tiredly. “You’re not mad at me?” He questioned, his surprise evident.

“No,” she admitted, “I’m not mad at you. You saved my life; torture was foreplay for them.” His body stiffened at her words. “The world’s better off without those two in it. Yaxley and Nott, they were a part of both wars and members of the inner circle, I don’t think I can even attempt to count the number of lives they’ve taken, nor the number of people they’ve tortured, raped and abused. They find their pleasure through hurting others, true sadists. You look up the definition of the word psychopath and you’ll find their names.” Despite the situation, he couldn’t stop the chuckle that left him. “If you hadn’t have intervened, I would be dead and they would be given the dementor’s kiss and have their souls sucked out of their bodies, what you did for them is more than they deserved. You gave them a quick death, the dementor’s wouldn’t have.”

She looked exhausted, his skin pale and the blood contrasting against it frightening as her body twitched in his hold every few seconds.

“You’re hurt,” she frowned, noticing the blood on his face. Her hand shakily lifted until she wiped at the blood on his cheek, revealing a cut he’d received from a ricocheting spell.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her with a little smile. He barely managed to stop his eyes from closing as her fingers ran softly over his wound.

Her hand dropped and her eyes fluttered.

“Hermione? Hermione!”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

He shook her lightly in his arms and her eyes slowly opened as if it were a chore. “Don’t you dare fall asleep on me!” He warned.

“I’m tired,” she mumbled.

“I don’t care; if you fall asleep, I’ll shoot you.”

“Okay,” she muttered in agreement but her eyes drifted closed.

He shook her more furiously and her eyes opened once more, slower than they had before.

“Don’t make me slap you,” he threatened.

“Like to see you try,” she snorted weakly.

“Hermione!”

Dean tore his eyes away from her, only just noticing that Sam was kneeled beside him and that her friend Harry was running over to them, his hood down and robes hung open. He looked to have a few injuries himself; a burn on his torso, one on the side of his face and one on his leg, along with a few cuts on his face and his glasses were cracked and his hair sticking out at odd angles as if he’d been electrocuted. With everything he’d witnessed in the last couple of hours, Dean wouldn’t be that surprised if he had been and there was a spell for such a thing.

“What happened?” Harry demanded, dropping down to his knees and a wave of jealousy swept through Dean when Harry pushed some loose curls out of Hermione’s face and she tiredly leaned into his touch, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“The Cruciatus,” she mumbled.

“Again!” He panicked. “Hermione, you know what the healers said about that curse, if you were hit with it again it could kill you, if not, have a serious impact on your health, you may never recover.” Horror filled Dean at his words. “How long? How long?”

Dean pulled himself out of his thoughts and looked at Harry blankly.

“How long was she under the curse?”

“A minute, two at most,” he answered.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Alright, that’s good, longer than five minutes and that’s when we have serious problems. The battle’s over, we won. Death Eaters are being transported to the British Ministry to be processed and those that’re badly injured have been taken to St. Helga’s for treatment. I’m afraid we can’t move her; we can’t risk worsening her injuries. I’ll port-key to the hospital and return with a healer, I’ll be no more than five minutes. Try to keep her still and do _not_ let her fall asleep.” Harry said in a no-nonsense tone that they were surprised by. “I’ll be right back, okay?” He said to Hermione, his voice softening. She did her best to nod and he smiled at her sadly before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t you dare fall asleep.”

“We both know that I probably will,” she muttered in response.

“Well don’t, I’m not afraid to pull the Molly card.”

“You wouldn’t dare,”

“We both know I’d do anything when it comes to your safety, including going to our pseudo-mother to scold you until you’re red in the face and so ashamed of yourself, you’ll want to disappear. And if you leave Ginny, she’ll kill you. So will George, and Bill and Charlie and...”

“I get your point, I won’t fall asleep,” she weakly promised.

“That’s the Hermione I know, welcome back to sanity.”

“When I’m better, I’m hexing your arse.”

He snorted. “Wizard’s duel it is,” he nodded before taking out the port-key from his pocket and disappearing from view, leaving Dean and Sam staring at the empty spot before they turned their eyes back to Hermione.

“Are you okay, Hermione?” Sam asked her worriedly.

“Of course she isn’t!” Dean snapped, glaring at him murderously.

“I’ll be fine, Sam,” she ignored Dean’s outburst. “It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been tortured.” She tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace.

“Just how many times have you been tortured?” He looked terrified of learning the answer.

Before she was able to answer, Harry reappeared with a stern-looking middle-aged woman wearing green healer scrubs and white robes over the top, her greying hair tied tightly in a bun and glasses perched on the tip of her nose, dark eyes hidden behind the lenses.

“Mr. Potter has explained your situation,” she stated calmly, getting down on her knees and pulling a medical bag out of her pocket, unshrinking it and opening it up before digging around inside. “He has mentioned that you have been tortured before, Miss. Granger, before I can give you treatment I need to know just how many times you have suffered under the Cruciatu _s_.”

“I’m not certain,” she frowned tiredly. “We’re well into double digits, over the last ten years I would say approximately sixty-three.”

The healer dropped the potion she’d just retrieved from her bag onto the floor in shock and horror and it smashed, glass littering the ground and the potion seeping into a puddle.

“What about that time you had to go to Budapest for a case?” Harry mentioned.

“Oh, I forgot about that, sixty-seven.”

“And Egypt, Peru, Japan, Finland, Russia...”

Hermione sighed. “Okay, so maybe we’re higher than I originally thought. I forget.”

“How the fuck can you forget you’ve been tortured!” Dean demanded of her.

“It’s a common occurrence in my life, one incident blends into another until I can’t tell them apart; I can’t remember where I was, who it was or when it was.”

“Miss. Granger, _how_ are you still alive? I have never heard of someone surviving past six hours of the Cruciatus, and that’s with their sanity no longer intact,” the healer spoke, a nauseous expression on her face and her skin paling.

“We’re not sure; combined I’ve been exposed to well over one hundred hours of torture. Sometimes it lasted for a couple of minutes, other times hours. In one case it was three days before I was able to escape and capture my target, it was a rescue mission as one of the Aurors under my command screwed up and went into a situation blindly. He was held for a week before I was notified of him not checking in with my deputy, it took me three days to find him and three days to get us both to safety. He’s been on the Janus Thickey ward at St. Mungo’s for the last four years,” she spoke sadly.

“Miss. Granger, I am not sure how to treat someone in your situation, anything I give you may possibly kill you, the risk is too high,” she said regretfully. “You’d need a miracle, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for you. We just have to pray that God is listening and that he will help.”

“Maybe not God, but an Angel,” Sam muttered to Dean as he leaned closer to him to keep the healer from hearing.

Harry must’ve heard as his eyes flickered between Hermione and the brothers before he took the healer and apparated out of there without so much as a warning.

“Cas! Cas! Hermione needs you!” Dean yelled, looking up at the sky. They waited but nothing happened. “For fuck’s sake! Where’s Cas when you need him?” Dean snarled in anger.

“Dean, I’m tired, I just want to sleep,” Hermione’s eyes drifted closed.

“No, Hermione, don’t fall asleep!”

He shook her in his hold and her eyes closed; she wouldn’t wake. The panic he felt multiplied tenfold when he lifted her eyelid to see her eyes had rolled into the back of her head and she didn’t look to be breathing.

“Cas!” Dean bellowed as loud as he could, his voice breaking slightly as Hermione lay lifeless in his arms.

“Dean, Sam?”

Their heads spun around to see Castiel approaching them, he looked around the rubble and blood-covered rooftop, his eyes landing on them and his head tilting to the side like a confused puppy.

“Get the fuck over here, Hermione’s hurt!” Dean ordered.

Something inside of Castiel seemed to snap and his face turned to worry and his steps quickened. When he saw Hermione’s form, he dropped to his knees beside her and stared at her silently, blankly. He’d seen Hermione hurt many times during her life, he’d even seen her shot by Dean, but he’d never seen her so lifeless.

“What happened?” He asked, unable to tear his eyes away from her, something inside of him twisting painfully. It was almost as if...A part of him was dying.

“Less talking and more healing!” Dean snapped, causing Castiel to startle and he slowly pressed two fingers to Hermione’s forehead as Sam eyed Dean thoughtfully. He’d never seen him so...So _afraid_ of losing someone except for him. What the hell was going on with his brother?

Castiel frowned in concentration.

“What’s wrong, why isn’t it working?” Dean panicked, seeing that it was taking far longer than it usually would.

“She’s close to death,” Castiel muttered.

“WHAT!”

“She’s close to death,” his frown deepened. “Her injuries are substantial. Her body has shut down so that her magic may try and keep her alive, her magical core is in overdrive, I can feel it. It’s thrumming through her body, swarming every cell and nerve ending, trying to repair the damage but it’s too extensive, even with magical healing she wouldn’t have survived.”

“Are you saying she’s going to die?” Sam said quietly, eyeing Hermione in horror.

“No, she’s _not_ going to die,” Castiel spoke resolutely; he wouldn’t allow it. “I’ve never healed injuries as significant as these before. She’s been tortured again. The dark magic is lingering inside within her, attacking her organs and they are shutting down.”

“But you can save her, right? You can help her?” Dean all but begged.

“I can save her,” Castiel nodded.

They fell into silence and it was almost ten minutes later when Castiel removed his fingers from her forehead, a tired look entering his eyes as he took a steadying breath. They noticed that although blood still stained her robes and dirt still covered her face, her burns had healed, a new layer of skin replacing the old, her cuts had healed and left no scarring, the wound on her side stopped bleeding and sealed and her skin no longer looked pale or sickly.

“Why isn’t she waking up?”

“She’s in a coma; although she is physically healed, her magical core needs to right itself. It needs to regenerate and get her magic flowing back through her body as it’s what sustains her, it keeps her alive and healthy. There is nothing I can do to speed up the process and I am unsure of how long that process will take. Her mind appears to have shut off and I found that she has erected strong mental barriers which I had difficulty trying to gain access through. She needs to process today’s events. Until she wakes, she will remain in this state but physically she is fine, all that you can do is wait. When she wakes, you must tell her that if she falls under the curse again in the future, she _will_ die and there will be nothing I can do save her, it would kill her instantly.”

Dean let out a breath and shifted Hermione in his arms. Although his arms were starting to go numb, he wasn’t going to set her down on the cold, hard rooftop.

“Where were you?” Dean asked and he looked to him with tired eyes and a drained expression. “Where were you when she was attacked? She told me she called for you but you never answered her. You left her and she was almost raped,” his voice turned angry, his glare murderous.

“She did not need me.”

“She was attacked!” He snarled.

Sam flinched back in surprise at the anger held in his brother’s voice and expression. Had he ever seen him so furious? He didn’t think so.

“But she did not need me. If she had I would’ve been there. She took care of Bowman herself, just as I knew she could. I would not have let him hurt her; I would’ve intervened if it was required of me.”

Dean didn’t reply knowing there was no point in arguing with the Angel, he didn’t and couldn’t process emotion as humans could, so he let his eyes fall to Hermione’s face, being relieved to see she was breathing, that she looked healthy. If he didn’t know she was in a coma he would’ve thought she was just sleeping peacefully.

He didn’t even notice Castiel healing both him and Sam of their injuries, nor did he notice Castiel exiting the rooftop, leaving only him, Sam and Hermione.

“Dean, it’s getting cold and the sun’s setting, we should get her somewhere warm, somewhere comfortable where she’ll be safe,” Sam spoke, pulling him from his thoughts. “I saw a motel about fifteen minutes from here when we were driving, maybe we can stop there,” he offered.

Wordlessly, Dean reached for Hermione’s fallen wand and shifted her in his hold as he stood up, carrying her in his arms and walking through the door and down the stairs until he reached the ground floor and he exited the warehouse. They received a few strange looks from the remaining Aurors that were cleaning up and dealing with the aftermath but they ignored them.

Dean was glad to see that the spell Hermione had placed on the Impala had worn off and without asking for help from Sam, he put Hermione onto the back seat and he climbed in with her, resting her head gently against his leg and letting his arm curl around her stomach to keep her in place lest she falls off the seat and injure herself. Sam climbed into the driver’s side and turned on the ignition, pulling away from the battle that had taken place. He drove at a leisurely pace as to not jostle Hermione and keep her as comfortable as possible and once they reached the motel, Dean climbed out of the Impala, being mindful of Hermione and he headed to the reception area.

“Two doubles,” he muttered tiredly, dropping money onto the counter, not even bothering to count it, nor to ask for two rooms. There was no way in hell he was leaving Hermione alone and without protection.

He took the room key from the old man behind the counter that way eyeing him warily, likely due to dirt and blood smudged on his face and the white robes he was still wearing. He was sure he looked a sight.

Dean quickly returned to the Impala and silently retrieved Hermione, carrying her to their room as Sam followed after him with his arms laden with their duffle bags. Sam opened the door for them and Dean entered the room, placing Hermione down gently onto the bed furthest away from the window and closest to the bathroom.

“Was there only one room available?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Dean answered without hesitation, although truthfully, he had no idea, he hadn’t asked.

Sam didn’t comment as he placed the duffle bags on the floor and watched as Dean shifted Hermione out of her robes, removed the arsenal belt from around her waist and he took off her boots, placing her spare wand on the bedside table along with her other wand. He pulled the blanket from beneath her and covered her with the blanket before he grabbed a chair from the small table and dragged it over to the bed, dropping himself down in it and sighing tiredly, running his hand through his hair and over his face.

Sam demon proofed the room, placing salt and hiding demon traps in all the appropriate places, before excusing himself from the room and going into the bathroom, to clean away the dirt and dried blood, removing his robes and changing into clean clothes. When he exited the bathroom, Dean hadn’t moved from his place by Hermione’s bedside.

“I’m going to get us some food, is there anything you want?” Sam asked his brother. Dean shrugged in reply, still not taking his eyes from Hermione’s sleeping form. “She’ll be fine, Cas said so himself, we just have to wait for her to wake up,” he said, clapping Dean on the shoulder and then leaving out the room, locking the door behind him and taking the key with him.

Dean sat in his chair in complete silence, watching the rise and fall of Hermione’s chest, not daring to look away in case she stopped breathing.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 6

A sharp ‘crack’ from the other side of the room had Dean springing to his feet with his gun pointed at the doorway of the bathroom so fast, he gave himself a head rush.

“Whoa, calm down, Mate,” Harry said, his eyes wide as he held his hands up in surrender, showing he had no weapons or intentions of harming him. Dean grumbled beneath his breath, released a sigh and returned to his chair, turning his attention back to Hermione.

“How did you find us?” He muttered.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Hermione and I can track each other in case something happens to the other and we’re captured or seriously injured and need help.”

Harry’s eyes turned to Hermione and he moved over to the bed and sat down on the edge, pushing some curls back away from her face and he noticed Dean’s frame stiffen from the corner of his eyes at the tender gesture. Harry held his wand over Hermione and with a whispered spell, all of the dirt and dried blood left her body, leaving her clean.

“How is she? Was that Angel of hers able to heal her?” He asked.

“You know about Cas?” He questioned surprised.

Harry nodded. “I’ve met him a few times, once before the war and twice after.”

“He healed her but there were some complications, he said something about the dark magic attacking her organs and her body was shutting down. He reversed the damage but he warned that if she ever falls under the curse again, it’ll kill her instantly.”

Harry paled considerably and Dean noticed that although he looked to have been healed and cleaned himself up, his glasses were still cracked.

“Thankfully, the Death Eater faction has been taken down, there may still be a few roaming around in other continents but when word spreads the others will give up. Hermione’s focus will no longer be on capturing Death Eaters but on magical creatures now. She’s still likely to get hurt but her chances of being tortured are almost zero. That’s if Kingsley doesn’t try to take her out of the field due to her health, but between you and me, he’s scared of her, hell, so am I,” Harry chuckled.

Dean eyed him holding Hermione’s hand. “Just how _close_ are you two?” He asked and Harry must’ve noticed the tone of jealously laced into the words as his eyes cut to Dean’s.

“We are not now nor have we ever been sexually or romantically involved,” Harry promised and something in Dean’s demeanour changed, he didn’t seem as stand-offish as his posture relaxed. “Hermione and I have a bond that’s difficult to describe. She’s told you about our lives, about the war and how we were raised?” He questioned and Dean nodded. “Well, my Aunt and Uncle weren’t nice people, they despised magic and all those that possessed it whether they were good or not. Due to both my parents having magic, it was all but guaranteed that I would have magic, too, and they knew that. They hated me because of who I was. They never told me of my heritage and they told me my parents died in a car crash, when in reality they were murdered trying to protect me. I met Hermione when I was eleven-years-old and before I met her, I had never been given or shown any affection; she was the first person to hold my hand, to hug me, something so simple that I’d never before experienced. She was the first person to show me kindness and love. She was the first person to treat me not just like as a friend, but as family,” Harry confessed, his fond gaze being on Hermione throughout his explanation.

“We have no secrets, nothing is off-limits between us, not even our bloody sex lives, which I admit is a little odd as much as it is horrifying but that’s why we do it. Most of the time we make a game out of it, to see who can last the longest without running out of the room looking disgusted. The loser has to do a forfeit, a forfeit that’s so incredibly embarrassing, it’s traumatising. But, I suppose that’s sibling rivalry for you,” Harry chuckled.

“But in all honesty, we’ve had a difficult life but through everything, the bullying, the battles, the duels, the war, the pain and death, the fear and horror, she was there for me and her belief in me never faltered. Even when she disagreed with me and I rushed into things rashly, she _still_ followed, protecting me. I’ve lost count of the number of times she’s saved my life, Hermione, to the rescue as always. I had all this pressure on me, a seventeen-year-old boy was expected to save the world. Believe me, there were times that I wanted to give up and times that I did, but Hermione was always there to give me a swift kick up the arse. We’ve always been close and we always will be. She’s my best friend, my big sister in everything but blood. She’s the Aunt and Godmother to my three children and they adore her, as does my wife who’s also Hermione’s best friend. We miss her, she’s always travelling and out of the country, it’s not often I go out of the country as I’m based in England, Hermione’s based here in the US.”

“Why doesn’t she stay in England, she has a life there, family?”

Harry smiled sadly. “That’s true, she does, but what I have with my wife, what Bill and Fleur have, George and Angelina, Percy and Audrey, Malfoy and Luna, even Charlie and Claire, Hermione is reminded that she can’t have that, that she can’t have a family of her own.”

“Why?” He frowned in confusion, his eyes darting to the little witch and then back to the wizard.

Harry gave him a sad look. “Hermione hasn’t had the best dating experience. I wouldn’t say she’s attracted to the ‘bad-boy’ type, it’s more like she attracts those that aren’t good for her. I don’t think any of us have ever approved of one of her past boyfriends, not that she cared; when Hermione has her mind made up there’s nothing you can do to convince her otherwise.”

“I’m not following,” Dean said, annoyance edging into his tone.

Harry sighed. “Hermione is the kindest, most caring and loving person I have ever met. She gives out her love without caution and that’s dangerous for her. She’s a strong person but even the strongest of people have weaknesses, cracks in their armour, and let’s just say her past boyfriends figured out her weaknesses and they used them against her.”

“They hurt her?” Dean gripped the chair’s armrests tightly, feeling anger and protectiveness flare-up within.

“Not physically, well, there was that one time boyfriend number four got drunk and pushed her, she fell down some stairs and broke her arm and a few ribs; she got her own back though. They mainly took advantage of her kindness, and Hermione couldn’t see that until it was too late. Some used her for her fame, to get their five minutes of fame. Some used her for her name, to get promotions or job interviews, to get into parties or to be able to converse with a specific crowd. Others used her to sexually satisfy themselves, taking everything they could from her until she was emotionally worn out. And others used her for her money.”

“Money?” Dean frowned; Hermione hadn’t mentioned anything about being rich or having money.

“Hermione’s financial standing in the Wizarding World is quite high, convert it into muggle currency and it’s even higher. Hermione is _very_ smart; she’s got a knack for knowing which businesses to invest in and which businesses could bankrupt her; she’s very sensible with her money. She received her inheritance from her parents, she got compensation from the families of Death Eaters that caused her serious harm during the war, such as Dolohov, Lestrange, Malfoy and Black, and she also received reward money when she was awarded her Order of Merlin: First Class. That’s not even including the money she gets when one of her spells is added to a school’s curriculum nor her wages from the Ministry, to put it mildly, Hermione’s well off and she’s one of Europe’s most eligible bachelorettes. She’s a target because of that.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Dean asked him, eyeing him warily.

“It’s a warning,” Harry stated, his eyes turning from Hermione and locking onto Dean, holding his gaze unflinchingly. “I’ve seen Hermione hurt too many times, I hate it when I find her at her apartment, sobbing her heart out and with more empty ice-cream containers than I can count, over men that don’t deserve her, that use her, that can’t see how special she truly is. I hate that she doubts herself, that these arseholes make her unsure and feel self-conscious and ashamed of herself. There’s something different about you though,” Harry tilted his head to the side slightly, a small frown on his face. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s something different, and I can see there’s something between the two of you. I don’t care whether it turns into anything or not, I don’t care if it’s only a quick shag or if you end up together for the rest of your lives. Hermione’s been hurt enough and I can’t stand by and let it happen anymore. You hurt her and I’ll show you exactly how I won a war at the age of seventeen,” he threatened. Harry’s face hardened and his eyes darkened, showing Dean that he most certainly wasn’t joking.

“I don’t _want_ to hurt her,” he confessed.

“But that doesn’t mean that you won’t.”

“You said so yourself, nothing could happen between us.”

“But it might and if it does, just remember you’ve been warned.”

Dean cleared his throat and he shifted in his seat. God! He’d never been given _the warning_ before and it had unnerved him how the smaller man, slightly younger than himself, had been intimidating, and he’d met Lucifer! _The_ fucking Lucifer!

“Haven’t you got another pair of glasses or a spell to just fix them?” Dean changed the subject.

Harry’s mouth tugged at the corners as he looked back to Hermione. “It’s tradition. The first time I met Hermione on the Hogwarts’ Express, she fixed my glasses for me, since then, whenever I end up in a duel or a battle and my glasses break, depending on where I am, I’ll apparate to Hermione and she’ll fix them for me. It’s nostalgic,” he said fondly, his eyes tracing her face before a sigh left him. “I better get back to England, I have a wife and three children to get home to, she’s probably worrying herself silly and not sleeping,” he chuckled. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Hermione’s forehead before standing up. “Will you notify me when Hermione wakes?”

“How?”

Harry dug into his pocket and he pulled out what looked to be a ring from a soda can.

“Keep this with you. When she wakes say ‘treacle tart.’ It’s the activation code and once you have spoken the words, I’ll be transported to wherever it is you are.”

Dean didn’t bother to look doubtful, in the last week he’d seen the capabilities of trueborn magic, and if he were being honest, he was stilling trying to wrap his head around the whole concept of it.

“Keep an eye on her for me. In her beaded bag you should find some vials labelled Nutrition Potion, if you give her a third of the vial every meal time, it should keep her healthy and give her body the nutrients it needs. In total, she should have one vial a day until she wakes.” With that, he disappeared with a crack, leaving Dean to digest everything he’d learned about Hermione; some of it surprising and some of it not so surprising.

~000~000~000~

It was dark outside and the early hours of the morning when Dean found himself still being sat in the chair beside Hermione’s bed, though this time Sam was snoring in the background, dead to the world in his own bed whilst Dean stared at Hermione, checking that she was still alive and breathing. He hadn’t yet given her the potion Harry had told him to, planning on starting the regime at breakfast the following morning, though it sat on the bedside table ready to be administered.

Dean sighed when he saw Hermione’s body twitch, her hands clenched into fists on top of the covers and her eyes moved below her eyelids. It’d been happening for a while now, like clockwork, it was every fifteen minutes and it had started not long after Harry had left.

In the beginning, he’d hoped it meant she was waking up but he’d come to understand that it was likely just a reaction to her sorting through her memories, learning to process her near-death experience.

Dean took his phone from his pocket and eyed the time, seeing it was three-thirty in the morning. He debated calling Bobby, knowing he would likely kill him for waking him up, just as he would for not telling him about Hermione; either way, he was getting shot the next time he saw Bobby.

His eyes flittered up to Hermione and back down to his phone and he pressed the correct number on the speed dial, hearing the dialling tone coming from the speaker. It rang three times before Bobby’s gruff voice could be heard.

“You better have woken me to tell me someone died, otherwise I’m gunna kill... ”

“Hermione’s in a coma,” Dean interrupted tiredly.

The line went quiet for several seconds.

“You better not be messing with me, Dean, if you are...”

“I’m not, Hermione’s in a coma,” he repeated with a mutter.

“You have ten seconds to explain what happened or I’ll shoot you on sight,” the grumpy Hunter threatened.

“We’ve never seen something so....” He trailed off, not knowing how to describe it. “Putting Lucifer in the cage was a simple salt and burn job compared to what we just witnessed,” he confessed, his eyes raking over Hermione, over where he knew the injuries had once been and he heard Bobby curse over the speaker.

“Fuck! What happened?”

“A blood bath,” he stated simply. “Good guys versus bad guys. We entered the building with Hermione as the team leader and within the first five minutes, we lost sight of her. It was hours later when we found her; I was hit with a ricocheting spell and ended up on the floor, she got distracted and was hit with the Torture Curse, I killed them.” He went quiet, no remorse in his voice, just letting Bobby digest the news. “Her friend, Harry, found us and told us that we’d won. He retrieved a magical doctor to help Hermione but she said there was nothing she could do since Hermione’d been tortured too many times in her life. Cas showed up and healed her whilst she was on the verge of death, even he looked worried that he might not’ve been able to heal her. If she’s ever tortured through magical means again, it’ll kill her instantly. She’s currently in a coma, Cas said something about her magic needing to right itself and her mind needing to process what happened to her, she’ll wake when she’s ready but physically she’s fine.”

“Thank God,” Bobby muttered. “Where are you?”

“A motel not far from the warehouse, we’re going to haul up here until Hermione wakes.”

“I’ll pass on the case to Ellen; you just stay there and watch out for her,” Bobby instructed. Dean didn’t answer; he’d already planned on doing just that from the moment Hermione had fallen into the coma. “Did she figure out what ritual they were planning to complete?”

“She never mentioned anything,” Dean frowned.

“Maybe not then, call me when she wakes.” Dean nodded, though Bobby couldn’t see him. “Get some sleep, Idjit,” Bobby said, ending the conversation. Dean snapped his phone closed and placed it on the bedside table. Ignoring Bobby’s words, his eyes remained focused on Hermione.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count:7

“Dean, I’m going for dinner, what do you want?” Sam asked, slipping on his jacket and finding the car keys.

“Not hungry,” Dean muttered, his eyes focused on Hermione.

Sam had long since begun to worry about his older brother. It had been three days since the battle at the warehouse and Hermione had yet to wake. Dean had barely left her bedside, only using the bathroom when he absolutely had to. He hadn’t eaten since that day, he hadn’t changed his clothes since that day, he hadn’t washed since that day, he hadn’t slept since that day and he’d barely spoken since that day.

Sam was at a loss, he didn’t know what to do. Sam brought Dean the fattiest, most disgusting food he could purchase and Dean had barely looked at it. To make matters worse, Dean had simply looked at the pie he’d bought him before turning his attention back to Hermione. He’d turned down pie! _Twice_!

He ‘d shared his concerns with Bobby and he often tried to engage Dean in conversation or encourage him to eat, but it was all for nothing as all he did was sit in the chair beside Hermione, staring at her.

Dean still wore the bloody, torn clothing from the day of the battle; he still had dried blood smudged on his face and body, his hair stood up at odd angles and was mattered from him constantly running his hands through it. His eyes were bloodshot and had dark purple bruises surrounding them; he sat slumped in the chair as if he’d given up on everything in life.

Sam didn’t know what to do; he just hoped that whatever it was between Hermione and Dean wouldn’t cost him his brother’s health. He prayed that Hermione would wake and set Dean straight.

“You haven’t eaten in _three_ days, you need to eat.”

“Not hungry,”

“Dean...” Sam sighed.

“I said I’m _not_ hungry,” he snapped. His eyes cut from Hermione to Sam, glaring at him furiously and Sam decided to let it go, seeing as that was the most emotion he had seen from Dean in days, not to mention the longest interaction he’d had with him, too.

“Fine, I’ll bring you something back anyway, you might change your mind later.”

Sam left without a reply from Dean, but he didn’t expect one.

It was fifteen minutes later when Hermione’s hands gripped at the blankets, her breathing sped up and her eyes moved rapidly below her eyelids. Dean watched as it happened, he’d gotten used to it after three days of it occurring every fifteen minutes, but this time something was different.

He straightened in his chair and leaned forward, he could hear murmuring coming from Hermione but he couldn’t decipher what she was saying. Her breathing turned into gasps as if she was struggling to breathe and her knuckles turned white from the tight grip she had on the blankets, her body shook and her head thrashed from side to side rapidly.

“Hermione,” Dean said quietly, reaching his hand out to touch her shoulder.

“DEAN!” Hermione screeched.

She bolted upright, her chest rising and falling erratically and her eyes darting around wildly, searching her surroundings.

“Hey,” Dean muttered softly. Her head spun to him and the fear in her eyes dissipated, replaced by relief. “You’re safe here,” he promised, giving her a tired smile and she frowned at him.

“You look like crap,” she spoke, her voice hoarse from a lack of use. He stared at her before chuckling and it quickly turned into a laugh.

“Of all the things to say, that’s what comes out of your mouth?” He shook his head and reached for the bottle of water on the bedside table that Sam had placed there for him and he handed it to her, watching as she took it from him and drank from it greedily.

“What happened?” She asked, handing him back the half-empty bottle.

“You wouldn’t wake and we called for Cas, he came and healed you but you fell into a coma, he said your magic needed to right itself.”

She nodded slowly. “When a witch or wizard is injured, their magic goes into overdrive trying to heal the injury itself and without the aid of spells or potions, or at least it tries to keep you alive until you can be helped. It’s the reason I didn’t die immediately when you shot me, especially when you hit my internal organs, I should’ve died within minutes but my magic kept me alive. How long have I been out?”

“Three days,” he answered. She didn’t look surprised, she merely nodded.

“My injuries can’t have been that bad then; it once took me three weeks to come around after falling into a coma.”

“Can’t have been that bad? Can’t have been that fucking bad! Cas almost lost you!” Dean exploded in rage and she startled in surprise. “Whatever those fuckers did to you, it attacked your magic, your cells, your internal organs were shutting down; it took far longer than it should’ve for him to heal you and that was because you were practically dead, he only just managed to pull you back to the land of the living!”

“Great,” she muttered, “ _Another_ reason for Death to hate me,” she sighed.

“How the fuck can you be so calm about this?” Dean demanded.

“This has happened to me more times than I care to admit, St. Mungo’s is on the verge of creating a private ward specifically for me, and St. Helga’s not far behind them. It’s not the first time I’ve been close to death, nor would it have been the first time that I’d died. I’ve _legally_ died four times, my near-death experiences are into double digits,” she told him, her eyes looking tired and he stared at her, not sure how to respond to that information.

“Cas said if you’re ever tortured through magical means again it’ll kill you instantly, you won’t survive.”

“Well, I’m done with Death Eaters, any that are left will be captured or give up, which just leaves me with magical creature cases, the chance of torture is almost zero.”

“Almost?”

She nodded. “Some vampires still possess their ability to practice magic, though it’s a rare occurrence, I would say one in a thousand. And werewolves that are wizards or witches still have their ability to practice magic every day but the night of the full moon, for obvious reasons, therefore they can cast an Unforgivable.”

They fell into silence, Hermione looking down at her hands and Dean watching her.

“Why do you look like shit?” She asked.

He snorted, not sure if he should be offended or not by her observation. “We were watching over you, taking it in shifts, I had the last shift so I haven’t slept in a while,” he lied, but she didn’t need to know that. “Sammy’s out getting food.”

She eyed him dubiously. “You’re lying, you’re still wearing the same clothes as the day of the battle, and you still have dirt and blood on you which means you haven’t changed your clothing, nor have you washed. Your eyes are bloodshot and you have bags under your eyes, which means you haven’t slept either. You better have been eating!” She glared at him.

“I’ve been eating,” he nodded, but his stomach took the opportunity to give a sudden growl of protest and her glare darkened.

“You have five minutes to get your arse into that bathroom and clean yourself up, otherwise I’ll hex your arse to England and back,” she threatened.

“Your wand is out of reach,” he pointed out.

“There _is_ such a thing as wandless and non-verbal magic,” she reminded him.

He eyed her, deciding whether or not he should risk it, and deciding that he definitely didn’t want to get hexed by the powerful and recently comatosed witch, he stood from his chair, grabbed his duffle bag and he disappeared into the bathroom.

He returned from the bathroom twenty minutes later, freshly showered and wearing clean clothing, he no longer looked filthy but he did look exhausted. Hermione had moved so that she was lying down on her side and he noticed she’d had changed clothing as she was now sporting an old faded t-shirt with a logo he’d never seen before and a pair of leggings.

He retook his seat by the bed and she lifted her eyes to look at him and their gazes locked before she looked away shyly.

“You should eat,” she said to him.

“When Sammy gets back with food I will.”

“I’ve seen the way he drives,” she snorted, “A snail’s faster than him, you’ll be waiting a while,” she replied and Dean’s lip twitched in amusement.

Hermione yawned loudly and her body sagged into the mattress as she snuggled into the blanket. She took one look at Dean and his clearly exhausted and sleep-deprived state before she shifted over in the bed to make more room and she lifted the blanket, patting the mattress in invitation.

Dean eyed her curiously before he stood from the chair and slipped into bed beside her, within minutes they were both asleep and it seemed that even in their sleep they were drawn to each other as they were wrapped around one another in no time at all.

Neither of them had noticed Castiel stood in the corner of the room, watching them with a curious frown and his head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

~000~000~000~

Sam entered the motel room with a bag of food in one hand and a crate of beer in the other; he shut the door behind him and then stopped in his movement of crossing over to the table when he saw _both_ Hermione and Dean snuggled together and sleeping peacefully. He blinked slowly, just to make sure that his eyes weren’t deceiving him and that he was seeing what he was actually seeing, but the scene didn’t change.

He sighed in relief and thanked every God there was, for to him it was obvious to what had happened during the time he’d been gone. Hermione had woken, she’d forced Dean to clean himself up as he now wore clean clothing and was free of dirt and blood, and then they’d both fallen asleep.

He wasn’t sure whether to wake them or not seeing as they would both need food but they also needed sleep, especially Dean and Sam didn’t know how he’d lasted so long. With his mind made up, he sat at the table, proceeding to eat his food quietly and he continued to research any strange deaths or occurrences nearby just to keep himself busy.

After three hours, Sam felt exhaustion beginning to creep in, so he made his way to the bathroom and readied for bed before falling asleep.

~000~000~000~

Dean woke to the morning light streaming through a gap in the curtains. He gave a sleepy grumble as he slowly peeled opened his eyes, Hermione’s face coming into his view.

He watched as her breathing was even and deep, her long lashes resting against her high cheekbones, her lips slightly parted and there was a slight crease in her forehead, making him wonder what it was she was dreaming about that her frowning so.

“I see you’re finally awake.”

Dean turned his head to glance over his shoulder, seeing Sam sat at the table and glued to his laptop.

“What time is it?” Dean asked through a yawn.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. “A little after nine, I haven’t been up long myself.”

Dean gave a sleepy grumble and turned back to Hermione. He sighed, before slowly removing his arms from around her and carefully removing her hands from gripping at his t-shirt but he stilled when she gave a grumble in her sleep. When she reamed still and sleeping, he carefully climbed out of bed, watching as Hermione moved closer to the pillow he’d been using.

He turned from the bed, picked up the chair and made his way over to the table, sitting down opposite his brother, running his hand through his hair and rubbing his hand over his face, once more giving a tired yawn.

“I take it she woke up?”

Dean nodded, resting his elbows on the table and putting his head in his hands. “She woke not long after you left, after an argument about her health, she made me shower and when I came out of the bathroom, she’d changed her clothing and barely ten minutes later, I fell asleep.”

“Why’d you argue about her health?” He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“She said her injuries weren’t that bad as she once took three weeks to wake from a coma, apparently, three days is nothing to her,” he spoke irritated and Sam snorted, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I slept so long,” he muttered.

“Well, you did, and you obviously needed it, you didn’t even flinch when I got back, even when I dropped a beer bottle and smashed it. I’ve never seen you that way before, Dean.”

Dean removed his head from his hands and saw the slight frown on his brother’s face. He leaned back into his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Why were you that way? I don’t understand it, I’ve never seen you that way before, not even with me. I was worried for her, of course I was, and despite how long we’ve known her, I like her, I _trust_ her. She’s my friend and I can feel a pull towards her for reasons that I can’t explain, but I knew she would wake up.”

He sighed and frowned, turning his head to look at Hermione, who was now snuggling into his pillow.

“What’s going on with you?”

He turned back to Sam. “I don’t know; I feel...” His frown deepened. “I feel strange. When I’m around her I feel _different_. She annoys me, she makes me laugh, she outwits me, she teases me. She makes me anxious; she makes me feel inferior to her but also as her equal, sometimes even her protector. I feel tired, yet alive. I feel a pull towards her, but I think it’s different for me than it is for you.”

Sam was all but staring with his mouth wide open; Dean was opening up, he was sharing his thoughts and feelings, something Dean refused to do with anyone, especially him, but Sam was bearing witness to it right now. His eyes flickered over to Hermione; she’d changed his brother in such little time that it was unbelievable.

“You see her as a friend, a familial match?” Dean spoke and Sam nodded. “I don’t, I’m not quite sure what it is but the thought of her getting hurt scares me, more than I thought possible. I worry for her, just as I worry for you,” he admitted, his eyes downcast and focused on the table. “I know I should hate her, that I should be disgusted by her, by what she is and what she’s capable of. But I just can’t hate her. She’s too...” He paused, searching for the right word. “She’s too _good_ , her magic, I can feel it when she’s using it and it doesn’t feel dark or evil. It feels light, warm, protective. She reminds me of you; her dorkish love for books and knowledge, her understanding, her friendliness.”

“True, but she’s more like you than she is me,” Sam said, Dean looked up at him questioningly. “What? She is; she’s practically the female version of you. I’ve never seen someone with an unnatural love for pie like you before, that’s where Hermione comes in, she all but eats the same as you, actually, she eats _more_. I can’t speak for her beliefs on the supernatural as I’m unaware of them, but I can see similarities in you that astound me, and quite frankly, it’s weird,” he pulled a face and Dean snorted at him.

“There’s no point in denying it. There’s something between the two of you and you need to figure out what you’re going to do, and you need to do it quickly.” Dean’s face must’ve shown confusion as Sam explained further. “The case is over now; the Death Eaters she’s been chasing for a better part of a decade have all been captured or killed. There’s no reason for her to stay in the States anymore and she can go back to England. Even if she didn’t, she’ll probably have her own cases which’ll take her in the opposite direction to us, we may never see her again. So you need to decide whether you want to pursue anything with her or if you want to call it quits before anything can happen between you.”

Dean frowned. “I...I like her, I _trust_ her,” he admitted, surprising Sam. The only people Dean trusted were himself, Bobby and Cas; he could still be a little unsure of Ellen and Jo. “I still had nightmares but they weren’t as vivid, they were bearable and I slept through the night. I don’t know if it was because I was exhausted after not sleeping for the last few days, or if it was because of her. I don’t know if she feels the same about me, I don’t know if we can have anything other than a one night stand, I don’t know if we’ll see her again after we go our separate ways.”

Dean’s stomach gave a sudden grumble, making them both startle in surprise.

“Well, I’m glad that’s over. No more chick flick moments, I’m starving, I’ll go and get breakfast.” Dean made to leave but Sam stopped him.

“No, I’ll go, you stay with Hermione, you should probably tell Bobby that she’s awake.”

Dean watched Sam leave, he locked the door behind him and Dean turned to Hermione. Seeing that she was still asleep, he found his phone and called Bobby, he answered on the second ring, his gruff voice coming through the speaker.

“Any news?”

“She woke last night, she was barely awake for half an hour before she fell back to sleep, but as far as I can tell, she’s fine,” he replied, his eyes focused on her sleeping form.

“I need to speak to her.”

“She’s still asleep and I don’t want to wake her.”

Bobby grumbled beneath his breath. “Fine, but you get her to call me when she wakes.”

“Will do, Bobby, no doubt we’ll see you soon.”

“I’ve got a couple of cases for you,” he confirmed before the line went dead.

Dean put his phone down on the table and with one last look at Hermione, he stood from the table and made his way to the bathroom.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

Dean exited the bathroom freshly showered and dressed, to see that Hermione was still asleep. His eyes caught the shine on the bedside table and he walked over to it and found the ring of a soda can, remembering that her friend, Harry, had told him to say the password when she woke. He frowned, looking down at the small object as he struggled to remember the passcode.

“Chocolate cake?” He guessed. “Cupcake? Apple pie? Treacle Tart?”

He startled and his hand grabbed his gun off the bedside table, as there was a ‘thud’ and her friend stood in the bathroom doorway dressed in grey robes with his glasses askew.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered in surprise. “Where’d you come from?”

“London,” Harry shrugged his shoulders. Dean didn’t bother looking sceptical at his answer. “So, I take it she woke up?”

“She woke last night for about half an hour and then fell back asleep, she hasn’t woken yet.”

“Actually, I’m awake now,” Hermione’s groggy voice flittered to their ears and they turned to look at her as she rolled over onto her back, stretched her arms above her head and then sat up, giving a yawn and rubbing at her eyes.

“How long have you been awake?” Dean asked her anxiously. He hoped she hadn’t heard his conversation with Sam.

“You woke me up trying to remember the activation code,” she told him, looking amused.

“How are you feeling?” Harry pulled her attention and he sat down on the bed next to her, taking her hand in his.

She smiled at him. “I feel great, well, I would die for a shower and a toothbrush and I would murder for some food, I’m starving.” He chuckled at her. “But other than that, I’m completely fine.”

“Hermione, you can _never_ find yourself in that situation again,” Harry said, looking at her sternly and she snorted at him before reaching up to right his glasses.

“Yes, Harry, I know, I’ve already been given the speech by Dean who relayed Castiel’s message. I’ve no doubt Kingsley will give me the riot act when I next see him, and don’t even get me started on Draco, please tell me you didn’t tell anyone.”

“Ginny is unaware, as is Molly and the boys,” he confirmed.

“Thank Merlin,” she sighed and he chuckled at her. “Anyway, now that the Death Eater factions have been wiped out, I’ll be focusing on magical beings and creatures, there’s less chance of being tortured and more chance of being bitten or scratched, and I think there’s enough lupine traits in our family, wouldn’t you agree?”

Harry nodded, thinking of Bill and Teddy. “You can come back to England, Ginny’ll be ecstatic to have you back full time and I know Minerva has asked once or twice when you’re returning, I think she wants to offer you a Professor’s position at Hogwarts. Of course, the kids will be over the moon to have their favourite Aunt ‘Mione back and...”

Dean’s stomach gave a hard tug and he felt something inside of him clench, hearing Harry speak of her going back to England, he didn’t like the thought of it and he couldn’t explain why; it was annoying beyond belief.

“Harry,” she said softly, cutting him off and he stopped and looked at her with a frown. “I love you and Ginny, and my Godchildren, you know I do and I would do anything and everything for you, but I’m not coming back.”

He stared at her in surprise and Dean visibly relaxed, moving to take a seat at the table, still being able to hear their conversation but giving them a semblance of privacy.

“I can’t come back, I like it here. I get to travel the US without being recognised everywhere I go and I have far fewer people asking me for autographs and interviews and photos. I don’t have many articles written about me and published, especially over stupid little things such as what I had for breakfast and how I wore my hair on that particular day. I don’t have to worry about the press following me or getting themselves caught in any of my cases. I’m needed here, far more than I am back in England. You all have families and I don’t, as much as I love you and everyone, I’m alone. It’s just me and Ricky,” she looked at him sadly. “I can’t have what you have, or what Bill and Fleur have, or George and Angelina, Percy and Aubrey, even Charlie and Claire. Draco has everything under control and I trust him to keep watch over those in England. The US has almost three times more magical creature cases than England, and their RCMC Department is severely lacking, particularly since they don’t have a Muggle World division which has more than proved to be needed. This is where I’m needed and this is where I can make a difference. Someday when I’m older, I may come back permanently and I just may take up Minerva on her offer and become a Professor and teach at Hogwarts, but not now. I’m only twenty-six and you know as well as I, we have far longer life spans than muggles.”

“But...I need you, you’re my sister,” he frowned.

“And you’ll always be my little brother, Harry, nothing will change that. I’ll visit every couple of weeks like before; just don’t expect me to stay for longer than a couple of days at a time.”

She could see that her declaration was taking its toll on him and then he sighed.

“Okay, I respect your decision and I’m not going to argue with you, it’s your life and you need to do what’s best for you and what makes you happy.”

“Thank you, Harry, I’ll still be in contact with those under my command, but all of my cases will be entirely focused in the US, unless I’m called for backup from one of my agents.”

Harry’s wand buzzes and he sighed, pulling it out of his robes and cancelling the alarm. “I have to go, I have a meeting with Kingsley regarding those captured and killed the other day.”

She smiled at him.“Rather you than me,” she said and he chuckled at her, shaking his head. “Give Kingsley my best and tell those Godchildren of mine that I’ll visit them soon with plenty of presents.”

“You spoil them,” Harry commented amusedly.

“Of course I do, it’s a Godmother’s duty to spoil her Godchildren and allow them to do the things the parents don’t,” she informed him and he snorted at her.

“I don’t know who’s the worst influence on the children, you or George.”

“I think it’s a tie, we’re both as bad as each other, just in different ways,” she mused.

“Now that I’ll agree with,” he chuckled. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead and she smiled at him as he stood, stepping back and removing a quill from his robe pocket. “Before I forget, Kingsley said that you thought the Death Eaters were carrying out a ritual of some sort, did you find any evidence of which one it could’ve been?”

She saw the frown on his face and anxiety and fear flashed through his eyes. “Yes, I was wrong, there was no ritual involved. It was just a coincidence that there were three deaths in each state, just a crime of opportunity,” she smiled at him.

He visibly relaxed and he smiled at her. “Good, that’s good, I’ll see you soon.”

“You will,” she promised and he disappeared from view after her words and her smile immediately dropped.

“Why’d you lie to him?”

“Sorry?” She turned to Dean who was watching her carefully.

He propped his elbows against his thighs with his hands clasped together and he leaned forward, even with the distance between them, she could feel his eyes piercing her with his stare.

“Why’d you lie to your friend?”

“I didn’t,” she denied.

“Yeah, you did,”

“Did not,”

“Did,”

“Did not,”

“Did,”

“Moron!”

“Jerk!”

“Dickhead!”

He laughed at her and her scowl turned into a small smile. “You lied to him and don’t deny it, I _know_ you did.” She frowned at his words. “Why’d you lie to him?”

She sighed in defeat. “There _was_ a ritual involved and thankfully we took down the faction before it was too late and the ritual remains incomplete. Twenty-seven deaths in total, three in each State, all happening within a week of each other. There was indeed no connection between the victims, everything was different from age to gender to race to hobbies, nothing was connecting them, except for one thing.”

“Which is?” He arched an eyebrow.

“They were innocent,” she said softly. “The location of the murders plots out on the map in the shape of the snake from the dark mark, Voldemort’s mark. They were trying to resurrect him and due to him having no soul, as we destroyed every part of it, there’s nothing to bring him back. As a result, there had to be a number of souls to take his place, sort of like rebuilding his own soul by using innocent souls as they’re pure and strong and magical. It didn’t matter whether they possessed magic or not, it just mattered that they were innocent. Anyone that possessed the dark mark would’ve called him back from the grave, whether they knew of the ritual or not; it would happen automatically due to the strategic placing of the murders and the final resurrection point.” He started at her surprised. “There is no way Voldemort can return, we made sure of it, but if Harry discovered that they were trying to resurrect Him...” She sighed and ran her hand through her hair, which was knotted and she growled when her fingers got tangled. “It wouldn’t have been good for him. He’s come remarkably far since the end of the war and he no longer has the pressure of saving the world on his shoulders, he no longer has constant threats of death hanging over his head. He’s finally happy and he deserves that. Telling him the truth would’ve affected all of that in ways I can’t even predict. By not telling him, I’m protecting him from himself, from his worries, fears and thoughts.”

He slowly nodded, understanding her point. There were things he kept from Sam for similar reasons, wanting to protect him from himself.

“So, please don’t tell Harry, or anyone for that matter, what I shared with you just now.”

“Our little secret, scout’s honour,” he replied, doing the scout salute.

“Were you even in the scouts?”

“No, but I still have honour,” he shrugged and she eyed him, amusement shining in her orbs.

“Where’s Sam?” She asked him.

“Getting breakfast,” he replied.

“That man is my hero, I’m starving,” she sighed, flopping back onto the mattress and he chuckled at her. “I need a shower and to brush my teeth, and to brush the bird’s nest on my head, and I need to pee,” she listed off, before pulling the blanket off herself and sitting up, climbing out of bed.

He jumped and ran to her as her legs suddenly gave way and she collapsed on the floor.

“I’m okay, I’m alright, my legs have just fallen asleep,” she told him as he helped her to stand up and she gripped his arms for balance.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked, looking down at her in concern.

“Perfectly fine, just stood up too quickly, can you get me my wand please?” She asked. He slowly let go of her, making sure she had her balance before doing as she asked. “Thank you,” she made her way to the bathroom, though it was a little tricky given her legs felt heavy and as if they weren’t actually working. “Give me a shout if Sam gets back before I come out,” she said, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

~000~000~000~ 

Hermione had only been in the bathroom for fifteen minutes when Sam walked through the door, carrying a tray of styrofoam cups and a brown paper bag filled with food. He gave a quizzical look towards the now empty bed and looked to Dean for answers.

“She’s in the bathroom,” he explained, his eyes watching hungrily as Sam placed the breakfast on the table, beginning to remove the food he had purchased.

“Where’s yours?” Dean asked, seeing that Sam removed two containers, both filled with bacon, eggs, toast and sausages.

“I ate mine whilst I waited for the order,” he shrugged and he picked up a cup and took a swig, handing the other coffee to Dean.

Sam watched happily as Dean was back to his old self, all but inhaling the food, and he suspected they would be making several pit-stops on the way to Bobby’s to purchase not only fuel but plenty of junk food, too. This time Sam wouldn’t complain about the amount of unhealthy foods his brother ate.

Dean suddenly stopped eating and looked to the bathroom door. “Food’s here!” He called.

“I’ll be out in a minute!” Hermione called back, her voice slightly muffled as she was likely brushing her teeth.

Dean returned to eating and precisely a minute later, Hermione exited the bathroom and walked towards the table. Her hair was wet and balled up on top of her head, secured by her wand. She wore an oversized jumper that must’ve belonged to someone else at some point, seeing that the writing on it was faded and the size was far too big for her small frame. Her jumper was paired with a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and well-worn converse.

She beamed at Sam as he stood from the table and met her half-way, giving her a tight hug.

“How are you feeling?” He asked her, pulling back to look down at her and checking for injuries, though he knew there was none to find, it was just a conscious action.

“I feel great,” she grinned. “But I’d feel even better once I get some food into me, I’m starving.”

He chuckled at her. _‘Yeah, she was back,’_ he thought amused.

“Well, here you go; I can’t keep the lady waiting.” He handed her the container of food and she looked down at it lovingly, a similar expression to when Dean saw pie.

“You’re my hero,” she sighed, before standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss of thanks to his cheek and moving to sit in the chair Sam offered her.

“I got you some tea.” He handed her the cup and she stared at him surprised. “I made sure they made it how you like it, a third milk, no sugar and the teabag left in for two minutes.”

“How do you know how I like my tea?” She raised an eyebrow and took a sip, her eyes closing as the hot familiar liquid slid down her throat, warming her up from the inside and a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

“I watched and I learned,” he shrugged as he moved to sit on his bed. “So what’s the plan today then?”

She sighed. “I should probably write my report of what happened and send it to the office, Godric, that’s going to take hours,” she groaned, rubbing at her temples at the thought of the headache she would surely have when she was finished.

“Rather you than me,” Dean muttered and she sighed, taking another sip of her tea and then continuing to eat her breakfast. “Bobby asked me to tell you to call him when you woke.”

“Wonderful, just what I need, Bobby yelling insults down the phone.”

Sam snorted and Dean smirked at her.

“Rather you than me,” he repeated.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Sam suggested; she looked up at him surprised.

“Sorry?”

“I said, why don’t you come with us?”

“So I can have Bobby insult me to my face instead?” She asked with her head tilted to the side, giving him a look that conveyed she had no idea what was going through his mind for him to suggest such a thing and both Winchesters snorted at her.

“Of course, come on, one last road trip, The Witch and The Hunters,” he grinned.

She looked to Dean with a questioning gaze and an arched eyebrow.

He shrugged his shoulders. “You should come,” he agreed. She looked at him slightly surprised and she felt her cheeks heat up. His mouth twitched when he saw her reaction. “Now we can outvote Sammy on music choice.”

“Awesome,” Sam groaned.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a Silencing Charm with your name on it,” Hermione promised.

“Now you, Hermione Granger, are _my_ hero.” She laughed at him. “So after you both finish eating breakfast, we’ll pack up and head to Bobby’s.”

“That’s a long-ass drive,” Dean grumbled.

“Well just drive through the night, no stopping at motels this time, we’ll take shifts,” Sam shrugged.

“Well sorry, boys, but I’m not going anywhere near the driver’s seat,” she said.

“Not unless we want some helpless Bambi being turned into roadkill,” Sam snorted and she scowled at him.

“You, Sam Winchester, are no longer being equipped with a Silencing Charm. You have to suffer through the music choice for the _entire_ journey.”

Dean burst into laughter at the look on Sam’s face, a cross between shock, horror and a grimace.

“I like your style, Witch,” he said through his laughter. She scowled at him and crossed her arms, huffing and muttering insults under her breath.

 _‘This is going to be entertaining,’_ Dean thought amused, as he watched as Hermione and Sam began to bicker and argue about ‘promising something and then taking it away’ and being an ‘arsehole that most certainly wasn’t as funny as he thinks he is.’


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

They’d been in the car and driving for the past six hours and as Sam had predicted, they’d stopped to refuel and Hermione returned from the station with her arms carrying a bag that was overflowing with beverages and junk food, keeping Dean quiet and happy.

Dean happily drove whilst nodding along to the music, every so often stuffing his face with a cupcake or chocolate bar. Sam was content in reading the book Hermione had given him, his peace and quiet protected by the _Silencio_ Hermione had applied after he’d all but begged her with his damn puppy dog eyes. And Hermione sat in the back seat, oblivious to anything and everything around her as she focused her attention on the report before her. Every so often, Dean and Sam would look back at her to see a focused, thoughtful frown on her face as the pen moved quickly across the papers she had resting in her lap; she hadn’t looked up from her report in the last three hours.

Finally, her attention was drawn away when she heard the familiar hoot of her owl, though it was drowned out by Led Zeppelin which Dean currently had blasting through the speakers.

“Dean!” She yelled, but he didn’t hear. “Dean!” She repeated, again with the same results. She huffed and leaned forward, flicking him on the ear.

He startled and turned to scowl at her, reaching over to turn down the music. “What the hell was that for?” He grouched.

“I tried calling you but you didn’t hear me, I love Led Zeppelin as much as the next sane girl, but is there any need for it to be so loud? Are you trying to deafen me?” She asked him, he continued to scowl at her and she sighed. “I need you to pull over whenever you can.”

“Why?”

“Just pull over,” she rolled her eyes and leaned back into the seat, listening as she could now hear the hooting louder and she was sure it was Ricky.

After ten minutes, Dean pulled over onto a slip road.

“Thank you,” she said, and she climbed out of the car when he stepped out to let her past.

“Why did I have to pull over?”

He got his answer when a louder hoot was heard and Ricky circled over their heads, swooping down and landing on Hermione’s shoulder. He rubbed his head against her cheek affectionately and she laughed, reaching up to pet him.

“I know, I know, I missed you, too,” she cooed. “Now, what do you have for me?” She asked and Dean watched, leaning back slightly away from the owl. Sam chuckled as he stepped out of the car, watching them both as Hermione reached up and removed the letter he had attached to his leg.

“Where’s he been? I haven’t seen him since the night before we left Bobby’s,” Sam questioned.

“I sent him to England with my report, along with a few presents for my nieces and nephews. He always gets sidetracked when he visits, I’m actually surprised he came back this early, he usually stays for close to two weeks as he loves the children, they spoil him rotten when he’s there which is why he’s getting fat.” She jumped when he nipped her finger. “Don’t be getting snippy with me,” she warned the owl. “You _are_ getting fat, you’ve put on at least two pounds since I last saw you, you need to lay off the bacon and pancakes,” she told the owl, Sam snorted and Dean looked a mixture of amused and freaked out at her interactions with the animal.

Hermione opened the letter and her eyes scanned the page.

“So, what does it say? Who sent it?” Sam asked.

She looked away from the letter, her expression slightly dazed and her eyes glazed over as if she were remembering something.

“Hermione!” Dean snapped his fingers in front of her face and she startled, searching her surroundings and remembering where she was, she got her bearings back.

“Right, sorry, it’s from Auror Kyle.”

“The guy you had investigating Bowman?” Sam tilted his head.

“Yes, he said he’s gathered evidence and has handed it over to the muggle authorities.”

“And?” Dean asked, noticing the way she shifted on her feet and she looked around, as if worried something or someone would jump out at her.

“They got him; Kyle was able to get him to confess to the rape of thirteen other women. He tracked them down and they all said the same thing, he entered their motel room whilst they were sleeping and raped them, he kept talking about someone called Anna. They were all brunettes with brown eyes and a similar height and build to me. Though they were all raped in different motels around the State, they never reported it as he threatened to kill them but Kyle was able to find them. He’s being charged with thirteen counts of sexual assault, three counts of aggravated assault and one count of attempted sexual assault. He’ll be going away for a long time, especially since one of the women was a minor at the time. He’s been doing this for four years,” she said, looking down at the ground.

“Well, thanks to you and your instincts, this guy’s going to jail and a lot of women are getting justice for what he’s done to them,” Sam said softly, she merely nodded.

She looked up at the sky when she heard another hoot and a brown barn owl swooped down and dropped a letter at her feet, flying away without a second glance her way.

“What’s with all these owls?” Dean muttered and Hermione crouched down to pick up the letter, noting the Ministry seal on the back of it.

She frowned and opened it, her eyes once again scanning the page. When she’d finished reading it, she stumbled back until she hit against a tree, sliding down it until her arse hit the floor.

“What is it?” Sam asked worriedly, walking around the car to crouch down in front of her. Dean remained further back watching her anxiously. He could see the pain and guilt on her face, it was unmistakable to miss.

“It’s the statistics from the battle,” she whispered.

“And?” He coaxed gently.

“There were one hundred and seventy-three Death Eaters, more than we originally thought. Thirty of them are dead, fourteen remain in hospital due to significant injuries, three are comatosed and it is unknown when they will recover, _if_ they do, and one hundred and twenty-six have been transported to the British Ministry pending trial for their crimes.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? You got them all,” Sam spoke softly.

“I doubt we got them all, but yes, we did good. The rest will likely give up and return to their lives of secret blood supremacy, but they shouldn’t cause any more problems.”

“So why are you upset?”

“We had eighty Aurors, five curse breakers, plus the three of us. Sixty of the Aurors were American and the other twenty Harry brought with him. Aside from myself who ended up in a coma, nine Aurors are also comatosed, seventeen remain in hospital due to severe injuries and twenty-three died. Two curse breakers were also caught in the crossfire, one of them died and the other barely survived,” she trailed off, falling quiet.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dean spoke up, her eyes lifted from the ground to look up at him. “They would’ve been debriefed before they arrived and when they did you explained the situation and the odds against you and you gave them the choice to stay or leave. They _chose_ to stay, they weren’t forced. They knew what they were getting themselves into and your plans were meticulous. You’re not to blame for those that died or those that were injured, so don’t be feeling guilty.” His stare held hers, daring her to argue with him. She slowly nodded and pulled herself to her feet, Ricky still happily perched on her shoulder. “Let’s get back on the road, we still have a long-ass drive ahead of us,” Dean spoke. “And _that_ is not coming anyway near my car,” he pointedly looked at Ricky and she rolled her eyes.

“Relax, Patrick, I wouldn’t let Ricky inside your car anyway, the confined space would unsettle him.” She lifted her hand and her owl jumped onto it, perching himself there. “Ricky, we’re going to Bobby’s, meet me there, okay?”

The owl hooted in response and she smiled when he rubbed his head against her cheek before taking flight and disappearing in the clouds.

“Let’s go then,” she said and they all climbed back into the car. Hermione reapplied the Silencing Charm to Sam and Dean kept the music to an appropriate level at which her ears were safe.

Ten minutes later she spoke, catching Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Do you mind if we make a pit-stop on the way to Bobby’s?”

He took one look at her and nodded, he already knew where she wanted to go.

“She’ll be grateful that you kept your promise.”

“I always keep my promises,” she replied, tilting her head back and looking up at the roof of the car.

~000~000~000~

Dean had no idea how long he’d been driving for, he and Sam kept swapping every few hours to give the other a break. They were barely halfway into their journey to Bobby’s and it was the early hours of the morning. Sam was asleep in the passenger’s seat, his seat pushed as far back as possible to make it more comfortable for him. He used his jacket as a pillow and he had a blanket draped over him, courtesy of Hermione.

Hermione was asleep on the back seat, once again with a single duvet covering her and a pillow resting under her head. Dean was exhausted and his muscles were aching from being in the same position for so long. Seeing them both asleep only made his desire for sleep much stronger.

When he heard Hermione beginning to stir he looked over his shoulder at her and he could see her breathing had picked up and tears ran down her face. Without thought, he pulled over and turned off the ignition; there was no way he was able to drive any further without getting some sleep first.

Hermione bolted upright, looking around wildly until her eyes locked on him and she took a deep breath in and out. Silently, she wiped away her tears and used the bobble on her wrist to tie her hair back and away from her face.

“You okay?” He asked her quietly, not wanting to wake Sam.

She nodded but he knew she was lying and in an unspoken agreement, Dean got out of the car, kicked off his shoes and removed his leather jack and shirt, leaving him in his t-shirt and jeans. He climbed into the back seat and he was surprised to see that it _was_ a lot bigger than he was expecting it to be, two people could easily sleep there comfortably. Hermione shifted to give him more room.

“Big spoon or little spoon?” She asked in an attempt at making a joke.

He snorted at her. “Like you could be the big spoon, you’re tiny.”

“Everyone’s bigger than me, I’ve learned to live with it,” she replied. He snorted once more before slipping behind her and laying down, she laid back down and they shared the single pillow and duvet between the two of them.

Hermione thought it odd that he was able to comfort her without even trying, one look from his penetrating green eyes could bring her back to reality, simply sitting beside her after a nightmare calmed her and for some reason, when he slept beside her, her nightmares weren’t as vivid, she still had them, but she didn’t wake from them as they were bearable.

“You want to talk about it?” He spoke quietly, his breath tickling her ear and disturbing a loose curl.

“Just the usual; torture, death, monsters, fighting for not only my life but for the lives of those I care for,” she replied and when his arm slipped around her waist and fiddled with the edge of her t-shirt, her breath hitched.

He decided to change the subject. “What’re you going to do?”

“What do you mean?” She asked him confused.

“After we get to Bobby’s, what’re you going to do?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure, like I said to Harry, I’m not ready to go back to England. There’s too many memories there and as much as I love Harry and I think of him as my brother, seeing him reminds me of everything we went through. In large doses, it’s hard for me to deal with. It’s become a lot easier since I began taking cases here in the US, I only go to England every few weeks to visit or when I have to go to the Ministry for whatever reason. I could have a meeting, I may have to decide between new recruits, I may need to be present for training or it could be to make sure everything is running smoothly. I may be based here, but it’s still _my_ department and my job is important to me.” 

“Why’s it difficult to go back?”

“Like I just said, it’s hard seeing Harry and being reminded of my past, but I don’t have any privacy in England. The minute I stepped out of my apartment I had camera flashes going off and reporters trying to get a piece of me. I had newspaper articles written about me weekly. About what I ate, who I dated, how I wore my hair, who I interacted with, what colour my bloody shoes were,” she sighed and he snorted. “I’ll admit that being famous in my world has its advantages, but it’s also a pain in the arse. I have no privacy, I’m easily recognised, people always want something from me. Harry’s media attention has always been out of hand since he’s the ‘Saviour of the Wizarding World’ twice over. But since he’s married, has three children and is the head of a respected department in the Ministry, they’ve somewhat calmed down around him. He still makes the papers, just not as much I do. I don’t have children, nor do I have a boyfriend and I’m still Wizarding Europe’s most eligible bachelorette, whether I like it or not, which I don’t, and that means I’m always going to be in the spotlight.”

“So what are the perks?”

“That I’m recognised due to my power, my position in the Ministry, my achievements and my past. This means people are afraid of me because they’ve heard stories of me growing up. Most tend to do what I ask of them the first time and I don’t have to repeat myself. I can get whatever I want or need, simply by using my name and no one tends to interfere with my work as they’re afraid to piss me off. The American Ministry of Magic allows me to do as I please as long as I keep to the laws and deal with things appropriately and professionally, and they leave me alone, and they’re afraid of me, too. I have a vengeful streak that even scares me sometimes,” she admitted. “I like it here in the US, although I am still recognised, it’s not as extensive as it is in England. I can walk down a magical street without someone recognising me, but if you say my name, everyone will know who I am, and if one person recognises me and starts screaming their head off, a crowd will gather. It’s nice to meet people that want to influence the world in the way that I do, that share the same beliefs, but it’s infuriating when they won’t leave me alone or they go all psychotic and try to kidnap me, yes, that’s happened to me before,” she said before he could interrupt.

“So, what’re you going to do?” He asked her his original question once again.

“I don’t know. I’ll probably just do what I did before, only this time I’ll be solely focused on magical creatures, unless I run into a Death Eater that is. I’ll travel the US taking cases that are either given to me or that I discover myself.”

“You’re a Hunter,” he muttered, finally understanding that she was more like him than he realised.

“Technically, only I don’t kill unless it’s the only option available, and I don’t tend to deal with ghosts, ghouls and spirits the way you do, and I don’t really deal with demons either. It’s mainly vampires, werewolves, veelas, thestrals, unicorns, giants, trolls and the like.”

“Fucking hell,” he muttered. Giants _and_ trolls?”

“Yes, smaller giants can be fifteen feet tall and the larger ones may be twenty-five. Adult trolls are close to fourteen feet in height and carry a club that is almost bigger than me, and they love to destroy things. Those cases are the hardest and require several of us to either take them down or convince them to get back to their own territory in the Wizarding World.”

“After everything I’ve seen, knowing that werewolves, vampires, spirits, gods, Angels and demons exist, I can’t believe that unicorns and trolls do, too.”

“There are many things out there that haven’t been seen, mainly because they stick to the Wizarding World. Some wander off into the Muggle World by accident, some get lost and others come here of their own accord,” she shrugged. “As I’ve said before, you and I, we’re not that different.”

They fell silent and Hermione’s breath hitched once more when Dean’s fingers slipped under her t-shirt to trail over the skin of her stomach, his touch explorative and gentle. She didn’t know how long they were quiet for and honestly, she thought Dean had fallen asleep.

“Come with us,” he muttered into her ear.

“I am,” she responded confused.

“Not just to Bobby’s. Come with us on our cases; come _hunting_ with us.” She fell silent in shock. “Sammy likes you and you’re good for him. You’re able to engage him intellectually in ways that I can’t and he has a friend that isn’t me. Bobby has proven to be very protective of you. I know Cas cares for you and he would do anything for you. And I...Well, I trust you,” he admitted, once again shocking her. “You’ve proven to me that you’re not a witch that I usually deal with. You’re a _good_ witch, and you’ve proven that you’d put an innocent life above yours. You’ve proven that you’re dedicated to protecting the world just as I do. And I trust you with my life, but more importantly, I trust you with Sam’s.”

“What about my cases, what about yours?”

“Sammy and I will help you with your cases and you can help us with ours. We can learn more about your world and the creatures you deal with and you can learn more about demons, spirits and gods. You said there’s two types of werewolves, we’ll need you so we’ll know which type we’re dealing with, and we also need to know whether we’re dealing with a witch like you, or a soul-selling, sacrificing witch; I don’t fancy the idea of pissing off an entire other world.”

“There’s two types of werewolves and they’re very similar actually, there’s also two types of vampires,” she informed him.

He chuckled. “See? We need you.”

“Why do you want me to come with you so badly? I thought you hated me, hated my kind.”

They fell silent, the only sound being the occasional snore from Sam.

“Are you aware of where your hand is currently?” She asked him, ending the silence.

“What?”

She could hear the confusion in his voice so she shifted and lifted the duvet and he bent his head to see that his hand was currently tracing circles just below her ribcage and her t-shirt had ridden up, so he got a flash of her taut stomach.

“Sorry,” he muttered, removing his hand.

Hermione’s hand shot up to grip at his and keep it in place. “I didn’t say you had to stop, it feels nice, it’s calming,” she responded and she held in a sigh when he shrugged and continued with the motion of tracing circles on her stomach.

She turned around to face him, his hand slipped to the small of her back but he didn’t stop his ministrations. Her eyes locked onto his.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she reminded him.

He looked down and a frown appeared on his face. “I’m not exactly sure why I want you to come with us, but I do. And it’s true, when we first met I did hate you but that’s because I didn’t understand you, I didn’t understand what you were or who you are. And to be honest, I still don’t. But what I do know is that you’re a good person, a good witch and I’m starting to learn and understand more about your world and your people. I trust you not to harm Sammy but to keep him safe. And Bobby’s a very good judge of character and he likes you. I have more reasons to trust you than I do to hate you. I know that my anger and hatred towards you was unjustified and I’m sorry for the way I acted and I’m sorry for shooting you. But I don’t hate you.” She stared at him in surprise as his frown deepened. “There’s something about you, for some reason that I can’t explain, I feel a presence around you; I feel drawn to you. At first, I thought you’d cast a Love Spell or something, but I don’t think you’d do that.”

“I wouldn’t,” she confirmed, “And there’s no such thing as a Love Spell. There are Love Potions but they don’t create or mimic actual love, they mainly create infatuation and once they’ve worn off, you end up looking like an idiot for being a lovesick puppy.” He chuckled and she felt the rumble in his chest. “Love Potions are difficult to brew and there are several types, each stronger than the next. It takes a skilled witch or wizard to brew them and they’re frowned upon in the Wizarding World, but since they can’t create love, they’re not illegal.”

“There’s something about you, Glinda.”

“Oh come on, Glinda? Are you being serious? That’s the best you can come up with?” She scoffed.

He merely shrugged in reply. “My point is, I want you to come with us because I’m drawn to you, Sammy said the same, he’s drawn to you, too, but not in the way I am. It’s more of a familial thing for him.”

“That’s interesting,” she commented with a thoughtful look on her face. “Especially since I feel the same way.”

“You do?” He asked, surprise evident in his tone.

“I do,” she confessed. “There’s been something niggling at me, something in the back of my mind for days and I feel drawn to you, too, and I feel the same for Sam, just as he does about me. You have an effect on me, and it’s similar to Harry; he’s the only person that’s able to calm me from a nightmare, no one else, and yet you did, you _have_ , several times.”

“So come with us,”

“And what if whatever this is,” she waved a hand between the both of them, “Ends badly, what do we do then?”

“If whatever this is,” he made the same gesture she had and she rolled her eyes at him, “Ends badly, I’m sure we could handle it, we’re both adults, and if we can’t, we can go our separate ways, likely to never see each other again.” She sighed. “Come with us,” he moved his head closer to hers and his voice lowered to a whisper. “Aren’t you the least bit curious to find out what might happen?”

Her breath hitched as his hand moved away from the small of her back and trailed her side, stopping short of the swell of her breast and moving back down, repeating the movement.

His eyes fell to her mouth and hers did the same and before she knew it, they had both closed the small gap between them and their lips pressed against each other.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

There was no hesitation in either of them and Hermione’s hand came up to tangle in his hair whilst his gripped at her waist and she gave a little sigh when he nibbled at her bottom lip and she opened for him, her tongue greeting his as they danced and twined.

Her insides felt as though someone had lit a small fire and it was suddenly given access to more oxygen, it burning bigger and wilder, consuming everything in sight. Everything about the man was bloody damn handsome; she didn’t know how to deal with it. From his sinfully good looks, to his terrible charm and pick-up lines, to his confidence – even bordering on arrogance, to his protectiveness of his little brother. Even his smell was attractive to her, he smelled like gun powder, motor oil and soap; it was so different from the freshly cut grass and parchment smell she’d once loved.

She gave a quiet, little moan when his hand moved to her hip and trailed over her arse, giving it a cheeky squeeze before picking up her leg and hooking it over his hip, pulling their lower bodies closer together and in response, she gave a harsh tug on his hair and a groan left him. She released her grip on his hair and trailed her hand down to his t-shirt, gripping the fabric in her fist and tugging at it, rolling onto her back and pulling Dean with her until he was cradled in her thighs and her legs hooked over his, keeping him in place.

He pulled back from her, his breathing just as heavy as hers and he ducked his head, turning his attention to her neck, nibbling and sucking at her skin to the point of it driving her mad and he slipped his hands under her t-shirt, running his fingers back and forth against her sides. Her hand slipped under his t-shirt and she traced the hard muscles of his back and shoulders, his skin erupting with goosebumps and his muscles twitching under her soft exploration. She gripped at his shoulders and gasped when she felt the bulge that was beginning to make itself known in his jeans and pressed up against her clothing-clad centre.

His mouth returned to hers and his hands moved down to her jeans, where he unfastened the button and zipper and before he could do anything else, Hermione stopped him.

“No, we can’t,” she mumbled against his lips.

“Of course we can, we’re both consenting adults,” he muttered as he moved his mouth back to her neck.

“Nope, we can’t,” she said breathlessly and she pushed at his chest until he looked down at her.

“Why not?” He all but pouted.

“I’m not having sex with you whilst your brother is currently less than a foot from us,” she said, looking at him pointedly when said brother gave a snore and shifted in his sleep. “Not only is it creepy and weird, I tend to have a few traits that come out during sex,” she said, her face darkening with a blush.

“What do you mean?” He asked, both amused and intrigued by her reaction.

“When I was thirteen something happened to me and I still suffer with the side effects to this day and they tend to be more noticeable during sex.”

“How so?”

“Not telling you, plus, I don’t want Sam to hear us and wake up.”

“Can’t you just put one of those silence bubbles around him, like you do when he’s reading?”

“No, he could still wake regardless.”

“What about the Invisibility Spell you put on the car? You could put that on us.”

“There’s no such thing as an Invisibility Spell and I’m not casting a Notice-Me-Not Charm because your brother is rather perceptive around magic and can likely see through it.”

“How about in the woods?” He suggested, half-joking, half-serious.

“There’s not a chance in hell I’m having sex outside, in the freezing cold, in the dark and scary looking woods.”

He gave a grumble and buried his head in her neck. “What am I supposed to do about this?” He purposely bucked against her and she gasped and gripped at his biceps, before scowling at him when he looked back at her smugly.

“Think of something disgusting,” she offered.

A thoughtful look crossed his face before he groaned a few moments later. “It’s not working,” he muttered.

She rolled her eyes before turning her head towards Sam for a moment and biting at her lip, indecisive. Sighing, she turned back to Dean and before he could blink, she pulled his head down and kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth and taking control of the kiss. While she did this, a hand slipped to his jeans and she quickly unbuttoned and unzipped them before pushing them down far enough that his erection sprung free.

She wrapped her hand around his considerable length and he groaned in surprise, bucking into her hand and pulling his mouth away from hers to look down at her.

“You said...”

“I said no sex, but I’m going to be thoughtful and give you a helping hand so we can both get the sleep we need. I’m not casting a Silencing Charm so you have to be quiet,” she spoke quietly, her lips brushing his and his eyes closed and he gritted his teeth as she started to work her hand over him.

He buried his head in her neck as she started with a slow rhythm, twisting her wrist as she reached the head and squeezing, moving back down and repeating it over and over again, slowly increasing her speed and the pressure she used until Dean gripped the pillow her head rested on in tight fists and he muffled his groans into her neck and fallen curls.

She used her free hand to dig under her pillow and she pulled her wand, muttering a Lubrication Charm and Dean gave a muttered ‘fuck’ as he felt the cool liquid cover him and Hermione’s hand glided smoothly over him. She squeezed and carefully dragged her nails over him and he inhaled deeply, muttering curses against her skin. She turned her head until her lips touched the shell of his ear and her free hand came up to his hair, tangling in it.

“You’ve got to be quieter than that,” she whispered, “If not I’ll stop.” She sucked his earlobe into her mouth whilst tugging on his hair and twisting her wrist and squeezing his length.

He grunted into her neck. “Fuck! You’re a demon,” he mumbled against her skin, his hands gripping her pillow tightly and his hips moving in time with her hand.

“Nope, I’m a witch; remember that, I’m much more dangerous.”

She nibbled at his ear lobe and then turned her mouth to his neck, sucking until she was sure she’d left a bruise. His breathing sped up further, she could feel his muscles tightening and his hips became more erratic in their movement; it was time to push him over the edge and she knew just how to do it.

“Just think, if I can work you up like this, imagine what I can do with my mouth. Did you know that I can tie a cherry stalk with my tongue?”

The visual was too much for him.

“Fucking hell! Shit!” He cursed and he grunted into her neck as he found his release and he spilt across her hand and jeans.

He stayed in place, getting his breathing under control and she found her wand and cast a Cleaning Charm on them both, before tucking him back into his boxers and jeans and refastening them, settling her hands against his waist.

“Oh My God,” he mumbled.

He lifted himself onto his elbows and her hands slipped around to rest against his chest as he looked down at her, a mixture of lust, surprise and wonder crossing his face. He lowered his head and kissed her passionately, only pulling back when the need for oxygen was too great.

“Can you really do that with a cherry?”

“Yes, I really can,” she confirmed. He groaned before lowering his mouth to hers but she stopped him by pressing a finger to his lips. “Ah ah ah,” she scolded lightly. “I don’t want to get you worked up again,” she teased.

“You’re right, it’s my turn.”

“Nope,” she shook her head lightly.

“But...” he tried to argue but she interrupted.

“If you return the favour, it’ll end in sex and I’m not having sex with Sam being less than a foot from me. But now, you owe me one,” she gave him a smile that had his length twitching.

He sighed and shuffled off her, moving to lie on the seat behind her. They both shifted until they were comfortable and this time they fell asleep, both being completely aware and conscious that were wrapped around each other; Dean was on his back with one arm cushioning the back of his head and the other was wrapped around Hermione’s waist, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on her stomach beneath her t-shirt. Hermione lay with her head on his chest, an arm over his waist and a leg tucked in-between both of his, looking comfortable as she snuggled beneath the blanket.

He tilted his head and looked down at her as she slept and when he did so, he noticed she looked a lot younger than she usually did, though he guessed her nightmares hadn’t yet started.

He pondered the talk he’d with her and he was surprised at the turn of events, something he most certainly had intended to happen. Fucking hell! If a handjob had him in that state, he wasn’t sure how he’d cope with sex, but he could imagine it being fantastic and actually, he was glad she’d put her foot down and explicitly told him no. She was right; it _was_ creepy to have sex with his brother currently sleeping in the passenger’s seat of the car and knowing Sam as well as he did, his brother would likely wake during it. Though he was curious to discover what these side effects were that she suffered with and that came out during sex.

He couldn’t wait to find out.

~000~000~000~

Sam woke with a stiff neck and an ache in his entire body; he squinted his eyes as the morning sun broke through the windows and he yawned and sat up, noting that the dashboard read 09:13. He was surprised that he’d slept so long, hell, he was surprised that Dean had _let_ him sleep so long without waking him to take the next driving shift. But that’s when he realised the car wasn’t moving, they were parked at the side of the road and the driver’s seat was empty.

He turned in his seat to look behind him and he rolled his eyes when he saw both Dean and Hermione asleep on the back seat, Hermione using Dean as a pillow and Dean’s arms wrapped around her tightly as they shared a blanket. Honestly, the sight was beginning to be a regular occurrence for him and he was no longer surprised by it, though he did still find it amusing.

It was obvious that Dean had gotten tired of driving during the night and rather than waking him, he’d just pulled over, but he was curious to know how and why Dean ended up in the back seat with Hermione in the first place.

Putting his thoughts aside, he realised he really needed to pee and so he left the car and went into the woods, and when he returned, he found his toothbrush and toothpaste and brushed his teeth, rinsing his mouth out with a bottle of water. He then climbed into the driver’s seat, moved Dean’s clothing and shoes out of the way and continued on their journey, taking the next driving shift whilst Dean and Hermione slept. He decided he would wait for them to wake before heading to a diner for breakfast but if they didn’t wake in the next hour, he would wake them himself.

~000~000~000~

Dean woke to a weight on his chest and wild curls tickling his chin and he opened his eyes to see Hermione asleep and she didn’t appear to have moved at all during the night as she was in the same position as when she’d fallen asleep. Speaking of which, the memory of what had happened a few hours ago was fresh in his mind, and apparently it was in his jeans, too, as his morning erection strained against the denim fabric. It didn’t help that he currently had the little witch draped over him, her smell of apples and caramel invading his nose and her leg being _very_ close to his groin.

He removed an arm from around her and stretched whilst trying not to wake Hermione and he gave a groan of satisfaction when he felt his back click and he put his arm under his head, looking up at the roof of the car with his mouth quirking into a smile. He could get used to waking up like that.

“You’re awake then.”

He turned his head to see Sam driving as he looked over his shoulder at him and that’s when he realised the car was moving and no longer parked.

“What time is it?” Dean asked, absentmindedly running his hand over Hermione’s back under her t-shirt and she sighed in her sleep and snuggled closer to him, amusing him; she was like a kitten, seeking warmth and comfort.

“A little after ten, I’ve only been awake an hour myself.”

“Breakfast?”

“Stopping at the next diner I see.”

“That’s my boy,” Dean spoke and Sam snorted at him.

“So, _how_ did you end up back there? And _why_ do you currently have the beautiful but terrifying witch draped over?”

“It’s a long story and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I would,” Sam protested, but he knew when Dean didn’t want to talk about something and now was one of those times. “Why are we stopping in Hulett?”

“So Hermione can speak to the mother of that wizard that died,” he answered and Sam nodded, he didn’t need any more information than that.

They fell silent and Dean was content to let Hermione continue sleeping whilst she used him as a pillow, though he had to hold in a groan and bite his lip when she moved in her sleep, pulling her leg out from both of his and hooking it over his hip instead, causing friction over his groin and just when he thought he was in control of himself, he was wrong.

~000~000~000~

“Hey, Glinda, wake up,” Dean muttered softly, gently rubbing his hand over her back and hoping to God that she wouldn’t wake like she usually did and he’d have a wand in his face. He sighed in relief when her long lashes fluttered against her high cheekbones and her eyes slowly opened.

“Seriously, Patrick, you’ve got to come up with something better than that, at least mine was original,” her voice was groggy from sleep and Sam snorted from the driver’s seat whilst Dean rolled his eyes.

“I’ll work on it,” he promised. “Sammy’s spotted a diner; we’re pulling into the parking lot now, time for breakfast.”

“Yay! I _love_ breakfast,” she said sleepily but she snuggled into him further, making no move to actually wake herself up. “I hope they have banoffee muffins, and proper bacon, none of this thin crispy stuff you Americans seem to be fond of, I mean proper bacon with the fat on. And please, God, let them make a good cup of tea!” She begged. Sam burst into laughter and Dean chuckled at her as they pulled into a parking space. “I suppose we better make ourselves presentable,” she sighed.

She pushed herself up and retrieved her wand from under her pillow and with a few muttered words, she cast Cleaning and Refreshment Charms on herself, along with a charm to brush her teeth and comb her hair and she summoned cleaning clothing from her bedded bag and magicked them onto herself. They both stared in surprise.

“What?” She asked and they stared and shook their heads in reply, unable to answer her. “Right, Dean, your turn,” she said as he sat up and turned on the seat to sit beside her. “A basic Cleaning Charm along with a charm to comb your hair and brush your teeth and I can summon clothes from your bag and magick them onto you, okay?” She asked for his permission, knowing he was still a little edgy when it came to magic.

He shrugged in response and she beamed at the way he didn’t seem to be afraid of her magic, nor of her using it on him. In a matter of minutes she had finished both Dean and Sam and they were clean, dressed in fresh clothing and looking more presentable.

She slipped her black knee-length boots on, tucking her black skinny jeans in and smoothing out her lilac shirt before hiding her wand in the waistband of her jeans, grabbing her beaded bag and hopping out of the car, following Dean and Sam into the diner where they found a booth in the corner and they slid in.

She raised an eyebrow as Dean slid in next to her and put his arm around the back of her seat. He shrugged his shoulders in reply and Sam watched amused; something had _definitely_ changed between the two of them whilst he’d been asleep and he was dying to know what it was.

“Good morning, welcome to Daisies’ Diner, I’m Callie and I’ll be your server this morning,” the perky looking blonde spoke, dressed a yellow waitress’ outfit with a white apron and white trainers. Hermione gripped her menu tightly when she saw from the corner of her eye, the blonde’s green eyes trained specifically on Dean.

“I’ll take a coffee with one sugar and a splash of milk, with some toast and a bowl of granola if you have it,” Sam ordered politely and the waitress smiled at him and wrote it down on her notepad.

“Rabbit,” both Hermione and Dean muttered and they looked at each other in surprise at the completely unrehearsed action.

“No, no, no, no,” Sam mutter with a horrified expression. “Please don’t do this to me,” he begged. Dean and Hermione snorted in unison and shrugged their shoulders.

“And what can I get for you, handsome?” The blonde fluttered her eyes at him and Hermione’s jaw clenched tightly, her teeth grinding as she glared at the menu in her hand.

Dean didn’t take notice of the waitress but he did see the little show of jealously Hermione was diligently trying to hide, and he occupied himself by playing with one of her curls, not bothering to look at the waitress as he gave his answer; he didn’t want to anger the beautiful witch next to him, both for his safety and the waitress’.

“I’ll have a coffee with a third milk and one sugar, and I’ll take some scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, sausages and fried tomatoes.”

“Sure thing, cutie,” she flashed him a smile. Hermione’s nose flared and the waitress turned around and made to leave, completely forgetting to take her order.

“Excuse me, Miss?” Sam called.

“Yes?” She questioned, turning back to face them.

“You forgot someone,” he gestured to Hermione.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Hermione muttered darkly. Only Dean was able to hear her and he chuckled, dropping her curl and picking up another to pay attention to.

“Callie, was it?” Hermione said and the waitress nodded in response. “Right, Callie, I hope you can write fast. I would like a cup of tea, made with a third milk and the teabag left in the water for two minutes, make sure the water is put in first and _not_ the milk, that’s considered taboo back in England,” Hermione instructed and Sam snorted at her. “I would like some toast, buttered lightly with bacon, but the bacon should _not_ be crispy and it should have a lot of fat on. I would also like some grated cheese and tomatoes, along with a plate of pancakes with strawberries and chocolate sauce.”

The waitress stared at her with wide eyes, not being sure if Hermione was serious about the amount of food she wanted.

“Oh, and do you happen to have banoffee muffins?”

The waitress shook her head and Hermione turned to Dean, a truly sad and disappointed look crossing her face and he chuckled at her.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find a gas station that sells banoffee muffins and buy you as many as you can carry,” he said.

She beamed at his response and turned back to the waitress who was still staring at her, unblinking. “Oh, before I forget, can I also have a glass of orange juice and a container of fresh fruit to go?”

The waitress nodded dumbly before turning and leaving, glancing back over her shoulder at their table before rushing off when she saw the narrowed gaze on Hermione’s face when she stole a glance at Dean.

“Hungry?” Sam teased.

“Peckish,” she shrugged her shoulders and they both laughed at her.

They chatted about mundane things until their food arrived; Sam’s came first being the easiest to prepare, along with Dean’s coffee, Hermione’s tea and her pancakes.

Dean reached out to steal a pancake from her plate but his hand was slapped away and he found himself on the end of a deathly and terrifying glare and a fork pointed threateningly in his face.

“Touch my food, I dare you,” she spoke, a dark and dangerous tone to her voice.

Dean stared at her slightly amused, slightly shocked and a smidge bit fearful.

Sam started laughing, choking on his coffee in the process and they both turned their attention to him.

“I’m so glad you decided to come with us,” he said through a mixture of coughs and laughter.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 9

They had stopped at three different stations in search of banoffee muffins, but Hermione was out of look as none of them sold them. She was currently sat in the passenger’s side for the first time since meeting The Winchesters. Sam had sprawled himself across the back seat, reading another book Hermione had given him about the history of Wizarding Europe, whilst Dean drove, chuckling every now and then at Hermione’s scowl and childishly crossed arms.

“It’s not funny, you said we’d get banoffee muffins,” she frowned.

“Yes, I did say that, just because we haven’t found some yet, doesn’t mean that I’ve given up. I promised you banoffee muffins and we’ll get you banoffee muffins.” She continued to scowl and Sam snorted in amusement. “Besides, we should be arriving at that woman’s house in ten minutes,” he said, and Hermione sat up taller and looked out the window, waiting for the house to come into view. And it did.

“Do you want us to come in with you?” Dean asked her, parking the car by the curb.

“No, I shouldn’t be too long,” she said, before steeling her emotions and climbing out of the car, walking down the drive and knocking on the door.

She didn’t have to wait long for the door to be opened and for a surprised Ms. Binns to be stood on the other side.

“Miss. Granger?”

Hermione was glad to see that she looked far better than the last time she had seen her, she didn’t look to be exhausted, colour had returned to her cheeks and her eyes weren’t swollen or red.

“Hello, Ms. Binns,” she said politely.

“Won’t you come in?” She asked, standing back to allow Hermione entrance into the house and she led her to the kitchen, both taking seats at the table when Hermione declined the offered beverage.

“Ms. Binns, when I last saw you I made a promise that I would catch those responsible for taking your son’s life.” She could see her eyes beginning to water. “I’m here now to inform you that those responsible have been captured. With the help of some truly brave witches and wizards who work for the magical police department, there was a battle in which we took down the headquarters for the faction of the other side. Several died in battle, a few are comatosed, some are severely injured and still in hospital but will face trial when they are released, and the rest are currently being prepared to stand trial, but the evidence we have is great and none of them will be getting off lightly. I suspect the sentence will be between fifteen years and life, and believe me, Ms. Binns, if I was given the sentence these people are, I would rather choose death, as our magical prisons are guarded by truly dark creatures that instil fear in every member of the Wizarding World.”

“They’re dead?” She whispered, her tears spilling out of her eyes.

“They’re either dead or standing trial, they will not get away with what they’ve done and they will be punished. Your son will get justice.”

She doubled over on herself, sobbing loudly and Hermione reached out to touch her shoulder comfortingly. Ms. Binns latched onto the contact and grabbed a hold of Hermione’s forearm.

“It’s over, and the world is a safer place for Henry to grow and learn,” Hermione whispered, and her sobs grew louder.

~000~000~000~

Hermione stepped out of the house, wiping away her own tears and she felt emotionally wiped out as she made her way to the car and climbed back into the passenger’s side.

“How’d it go?” Sam asked her.

“It went,” she replied looking out of the window. “Let’s go, I’ve done what I needed to do, now we need to get to Bobby’s so he can yell at me.” They both chuckled at her and Dean started the ignition and they continued on their journey.

They had been driving for over an hour and Hermione had been unusually quiet, Dean kept stealing glances at her, frowning at the differences he saw in her. She had been staring out of the window the entirety of the drive; she was slumped in the seat and with her head pressed against the window, looking tired and defeated.

“Are you okay?” Dean spoke, making her jump in surprise as his voice rose over the music currently being played, The Rolling Stones, she noted. She looked behind her to see that Sam had dozed off whilst reading, his head laying at an odd angle that would surely hurt when he woke.

She ran her hand over her face and sighed. “Yes, it just got to me a lot more than I thought it would, I’ll be fine after I’ve eaten.” She sat up straight when her eyes caught the large building they would soon be passing and she turned to Dean. “Pull over in the car park would you?”

“Parking lot,” he corrected and she rolled her eyes at him. After a further five minutes, he did pull into the car park and turned off the ignition.

“So why are we stopping at Walmart?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You promised me banoffee muffins and Walmart practically sell everything, so they should sell banoffee muffins. Besides, I need to restock on supplies so that I can bake when I feel like it, and no doubt I’ll be cooking dinner for everyone when we get to Bobby’s and he’ll have no food in.”

He simply shrugged, before turning around and hitting Sam across the knee until he jerked awake and scowled at him.

“What the hell was that for? Why are we at Walmart?” He asked confused.

“Because I need some supplies and it’s not often I get the chance to restock from a place such as this,” Hermione explained, before she grabbed her beaded bag, hid her wand from view and she stepped out of the car with both Winchesters reluctantly following after her.

Hermione retrieved a small trolley and entered through the automatic doors, her eyes widening at just how big the building was. She took off like a small child in a sweet shop and darted through the aisles, with a speed that had The Winchester brothers surprised, amused and scrambling to keep up with her.

“No way, twelve washcloths for a dollar,” she turned to them both amazed and they snorted at her excitement.

“Do you need that many?”

“No, probably not, but it’s a bargain and I’ll likely find a use for them otherwise I’ll have spare.” She deposited several into her trolley, totalling five dollars and continued down the aisle. “Towels, great, I need some new towels,” she beamed, picking up several and depositing them in the trolley, too.

She continued making her way around the shop, talking to herself and making exclamations of joy, while the brothers followed behind her amused.

“Hey, Sam, do me a favour and get me two more trolleys.”

“Shopping carts,” Dean corrected.

“I’m British, they are shopping trolleys and they are staying that way,” she replied, her attention didn’t waver from scanning the shower gel and soap options.

“Do you even need wash products?” Sam asked her.

“I do actually,” she confirmed, “And with these prices, I can buy them in bulk so that I won’t have to keep restocking my supplies,” she said, finding the soap and shower gel that she preferred to use and picking up several, placing them into her trolley, and when Sam returned from doing as she had asked, she forced Dean to push one empty trolley, and Sam the other.

They followed her as she made her way down every aisle and when she reached the dairy aisle, she picked up two three litre milks.

“What’s the point in buying milk, it’ll expire in a few days?” Dean said.

“Not with magic, I can keep things from expiring for a couple of weeks, depending on the strength of the spell and the food. Uncooked fish and raw meat usually last about a week, cooked fish and meat double that, cooked meals can last a few days, depending on what it is, and surprisingly, dairy products can last about two and a half weeks.” She didn’t look at them as she picked up some cheese, moving onto the yoghurts. “So, what do you fancy for dinner on this lovely evening?”They both shrugged and she sighed and rolled her eyes, walking off. “Well I have a craving for mash potato, so how about a British classic of bangers and mash?”

“What?” They both asked confused.

“Sausages slowly cooked in gravy in the oven, served with creamy mash potato and vegetables.”

“Oh, okay, sounds great,” Sam spoke and she beamed at him, making a mental note to pick up the ingredients on her way around the shop.

They continued walking down the aisles for a further thirty minutes, Hermione having filled up all three of the trolleys and she disappeared to retrieve another, when she spotted the baked goods and to her utter relief, she found banoffee muffins.

She practically squealed in joy and filled the trolley with the remaining six boxes on the shelves and made her way back to the brothers with a bounce in her step, and she found them exactly where she’d left them in the frozen section.

“Why are you looking so happy?” Dean asked her amused, noticing the gleam in her eyes.

“I found banoffee muffins,” she grinned. They looked down to the trolley.

“Did you get enough?” He asked with a smirk.

“No, I got what was left on the shelves, otherwise I would’ve gotten more, I love banoffee muffins,” she spoke with a little frown. “Anyway, what should we have for dessert?”

“Pie,” Dean said before Sam could get a word in and Hermione could blink.

“I like your thinking,” she nodded in approval. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll go and get the ingredients for the pie and you and Sam can go to the fruit and vegetable section, and select the filling for the pie.”

“Anything I want?”

“Anything you want,” she confirmed. He spun the trolley around and grabbed Sam by the collar, pulling him down the aisle with him so fast, that Hermione couldn’t help laugh.

She quickly found what she needed and made her way to the brothers, though it was difficult trying to control two trolleys and so when she checked to make sure no one was around, she touched the tip of her wand to both trolleys and with a whispered spell, she had them pushing themselves, she just held onto them to keep up appearances.

When she reached them, she found them bickering over the filling for the pie, Sam wanting apple whilst Dean wanted blueberry.

“Just get what you want, if I have to I’ll bake two pies; I have more than enough ingredients to do so.”

They both turned to her, surprised to see her since they hadn’t noticed her arrive due to their distraction of arguing. They then turned and each grabbed the fruit they wanted for the filling and placed them in the trolley.

“Right then, I think that’s everything,” she spoke with a frown of concentration on her face. “Bread, dairy, eggs, flour, sugar, wash products, cereal, fruit and vegetables, sausages, potatoes,” she listed off whilst counting on her fingers. “Anything else?”

“Why are you asking us? You’re the one that wanted to stop here,” Dean reminded her.

“I think that’s everything then,” she spoke, turning her trolleys and heading to the checkout and the brothers followed her. It took twenty minutes to have everything packed into bags and for Hermione to pay, and they carried the bags to the car and placed them in the back seat.

“Are you sure you’re done?” Dean asked her with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Thank God,” he muttered, pulling away from the place where he’d been forced to spend close to two hours shopping. He didn’t want to experience it again.

Hermione fell quiet as she summoned her report that she hadn’t yet finished and she got herself comfortable, turning her attention to the words in front of her, while Sam returned to reading and Dean hummed along to the music.

~000~000~000~

Hermione looked up and sighed in relief when she saw that they were pulling into the salvage yard belonging to Bobby. Not only was her neck aching from looking down at the paperwork on her lap, her hand hurting from writing and she had a headache, too, but most importantly, she was starving.

She packed everything away and stepped out of the car, noting that Bobby was already making his way towards them. She stayed back and prepared herself for a telling off, whilst the brothers stepped forward to greet the man they considered to be a second father. She stepped forward when the brothers made their way into the house leaving her alone with Bobby.

“Idjit,” he spoke, slapping her upside the head and she scowled at him, rubbing at the sore spot on her head.

“What was that for?” She griped.

“You know exactly what that was for, Missy.”

“At least I didn’t die this time,” she responded and her reply earned her another slap upside the head.

“Will you stop hitting me?” She scowled at him.

“When you stop being stupid I will.”

“Can I have my hug now or are you going to insult me further?”

“Both,” he responded and Hermione rolled her eyes and she pulled Bobby into a hug, noting how he stiffened slightly, before relaxing.

“It’s good to see you again, Bobby, and I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“I wasn’t worried,” he denied, pulling back from her and she chucked at him. “So, you mentioned a ritual, did you figure it out?”

“No, I was wrong, there was no ritual involved.”

He looked at her with a knowing gaze. “You’re lying,” he stated.

“I’m not,” she denied.

“Yes, you are, but seeing as you’re denying it, there must be a reason why you don’t want to discuss it and so I won’t bring it up again.”

“If I was lying and you were right, I would say thank you, but seeing as I’m not, all I have to say is help me with these bags so I can make a start on dinner.” He rose an eyebrow at her but did help her to carry the bags she handed to him, into the kitchen. “Did Ricky arrive?” She asked him.

“Yeah, that bird of yours is strange, he wouldn’t stop pecking at the refrigerator until I opened it and he stole a cookie and flew off. The last I saw of him he was flying around the salvage yard.”

Hermione sighed. “That bloody owl is going on a diet,” she muttered.

Bobby snorted in amusement and then disappeared, leaving Hermione alone and she immediately set to work on preparing dinner.

~000~000~000~

Everyone had eaten their dinner, including both pies Hermione had baked and they had gone their separate ways, Bobby and Sam disappearing into a room beside the living room, Dean upstairs and Hermione went outside, heading into the maze of cars, sitting down on the dusty ground and leaning back against a car whilst looking up at the sky in the warm spring evening.

She contemplated whether or not to take Dean up on his offer of joining him and his brother, on travelling the US and taking on cases. She knew he had a point; if she went with them, not only would they both be doing their jobs, but the brothers could be educated on her world and the magical creatures that inhabit it, and she could learn more about the things they dealt with, seemingly Gods, demons and spirits that were unlike the ones she had grown up knowing. It was an excellent opportunity to build bridges between Hunters and her world, preventing possible future killings of true born witches and wizards and magically protected creatures.

She liked Sam, and she had quickly come to think of him as a friend, a good friend and she trusted him. He was eager to learn and he had the same desire for knowledge that she did. She knew Bobby from before meeting The Winchesters after underestimating the number of vampires she’d been tracking and he’d helped her and even saved her life at one point, but she had grown closer to Bobby in the few days she had actually spent with him.

Then there was Castiel. Castiel was an important part of her life and he had been since she was a child. He helped her through her transition into the Wizarding World, even if he didn’t understand it himself; he had just as much knowledge and experience as she’d had at that point. But she knew the Winchesters were important to him, and she thought it odd that she had somehow found her way into their lives. Then there was Harry and everyone else back in England.

She missed her family, of course she did, but she had meant what she said. She couldn’t go back, not yet. She wasn’t needed there and everyone was happy whether she was in their lives or not. Her presence didn’t affect their everyday decisions; her lack of a presence didn’t devastate them. She knew they missed her and loved her, of course she did, but they all had their own lives and families, and other than being the fun Aunt and Godmother, she didn’t really factor into their lives as she once used to. They had gotten used to her not being there all the time and she was happier where she was now.

At one point in the past, she had debated moving to the US entirely and transferring to The American Ministry of Magic, but that meant leaving her post and department behind, and The American Ministry didn’t have the department she headed up as it was newly created less than ten years ago, and despite her brushing it off when it was mentioned, it _had_ been created solely for her to put her skills and knowledge to use. Transferring meant leaving the job that she absolutely loved behind, as well as reducing the need to return home for meetings, trials and family obligations down to only family obligations.

And that just left Dean. Dean Winchester. The man that was so handsome it was bloody irritating. The man that affected her in ways she thought odd. She felt comfortable around him, more comfortable than she had ever felt around anyone, bar Harry of course. He understood her sense of humour, where some thought her to be strange or sometimes even a bit of a bitch, he seemed to understand and he gave as much as he got. When she teased people, some may have considered it to be nagging, but Dean saw the funny side, either teasing her or insulting her in a way that she knew he didn’t mean it. She had gotten a lot more sleep than she was used to, seeing as she was lucky to get three hours before, now she felt more rested and refreshed, and it was always after Dean Winchester had been nearby.

He didn’t pity her, he didn’t idolise her, he didn’t make insulting comments when she suddenly went off on a rant about something that had been brought up and she was passionate about. And after the first few days when he was wary around her, maybe even hateful, he treated her like a regular human being. Not a war heroine, not a child genius, not a celebrity, just a normal person. And he‘d started to take an interest in learning about her world, listening when she spoke to Sam and answered his questions, even if he didn’t know she knew, since he was usually doing something else to make it look as though he were busy, which he wasn’t.

But then what would she do if she did go with them, if the strange pull she felt towards Dean turned into something more and then things didn’t work out? What would she do then? Would she be able to look at him every day? Would she be able to stand seeing him flirt with other women? Would they be able to get along, or would she have to leave?

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

“There you are.”

She turned her head and looked over her shoulder to see Dean walking towards her and he stopped, looking down at her with his hands in his pockets.

“What are you doing?”

“Just thinking,” she shrugged.

“So you’re not busy, great, let’s go.” He held his hand out and pulled her to her feet.

“Where are we going exactly?” She asked as she followed him through the maze of broken cars and when he turned right, he suddenly stopped and she almost bumped into him in surprise.

She looked around to see a large area free of cars; it actually had grass and some trees, rather than the dry, dusty ground she was used to seeing. Then she noticed six empty cans lined up on a table.

He pulled a gun out of his waistband and handed it to her. She looked down at it in surprise and noticed it to be a standard police weapon, a Beretta 92.

“Okay, and why have you given me this?”

“See those cans?” She nodded at him. “Hit them,” he instructed.

“I’m sorry?”

“Hit those cans.”

“Why?”

“You wanted me to teach you how to defend yourself without magic,” he reminded her. “We have some time on our hands, so I thought we’d start with weapons first and see how you do with that, before moving onto hand to hand combat. So shoot those cans, I’ll be impressed if you hit one.” He smirked at her in challenge and her eyes hardened.

She hated it when people assumed things about her.

“From here?” She asked, indicating to where she was currently stood, approximately twenty feet from the table.

“You can go closer if you want.”

Her reply was to scowl at him, before lifting the gun and taking her aim, firing off six shots without stopping.

“The Beretta is good, but I prefer a Glock 19 due to its durability, accuracy and versatility as well as being easy to conceal due to its smaller size,” she said.

She handed the gun back to him. He started at her speechless; she’d hit all six of the cans and they now lay on the floor with a bullet hole in them.

“I don’t understand; how did you do that?”

She smirked at him and crossed her arms smugly. “I wasn’t joking when I told that female officer my parents were in the military.” He gawked at her. “My father was ten years older than my mother and before he became a dentist, he served in the British Army for twelve years. He met my mother when she did a residency at the same dentists as him. Much to my mother’s chagrin, my father taught me how to fire my first gun when I was eight years old, and he continued teaching me up until I was eleven and then I went away to Hogwarts. We never got around to self-defence, though he was glad that I was able to defend myself with magic, if the time called for it.” He continued to stare at her. “My aim has always been good due that fact, particularly with my spells, as I learned at a young age to take into account the wind conditions, which may throw off the direction and trajectory of my spells, so I know how to alter my delivery to better hit my target in all weathers, something most witches and wizards aren’t able to do.”

“You can fire a gun?” He said slowly.

“I can,” she replied amused at his confused frown.

“You hit all six cans?”

“I did,” she confirmed. “I’m not too shabby with knives either. I once told my mother that when I got older I wanted to join the circus as a knife juggler, you should’ve seen the look on her face, I thought she was going to faint,” she chuckled fondly.

Something inside Dean changed and she saw it happen. His green eyes lost that confused and dazed look, only to darken and be replaced by lust. He stood taller, his body looking tense, as though he was restraining himself from doing something. The corners of his mouth quirked and he took a step forward.

Hermione took a step back and she felt her cheeks heat up as Dean’s eyes held her gaze, a predatory look on his face.

Before Hermione could do anything, her eyes fluttered closed as Dean’s mouth crashed down onto hers.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 9

Hermione stumbled back as Dean crashed into her, his hands gripping at her hips and she held onto his biceps, gripping for balance, but it wasn’t enough and she fell backwards, tumbling to the ground.

She made a sound of surprise and somehow Dean managed to twist them so that he landed on the ground on his back and Hermione landed on top of him with Dean cushioning her fall. He made a grunting sound of pain against her lips but he didn’t stop kissing her.

Hermione shuffled up his body so neither of them had to crane their necks, her legs straddled his waist and her hands moved from his biceps to bury themselves into his hair, tugging on the strands. He groaned and delved his tongue into her mouth, his hands moving away from her hips, one running up her back and burying beneath her hair and holding the back of her neck to keep her to him, the other slipped under her shirt and trailed the hot skin of her back. She moaned when his hand slipped over her arse and gave it an appreciative squeeze.

Her hands left his hair and found his, lacing her fingers through his she pulled them away from her body and pinned them on either side of his head, keeping held to the ground.

“Hermione! Dean!” Hermione sprung back from Dean and jumped off him just as Sam rounded the corner, coming into view and he raised an eyebrow as Dean was still laid on the ground and Hermione stood beside him, looking everywhere but at him.

“What’s going on here?” He asked them both.

“Dean was teaching me some self-defence,” Hermione answered. Technically he had been before he pounced on her, so she wasn’t exactly lying.

She knew her cheeks were likely flushed, but that could be put down to the exercise, the same with her breathlessness and rumpled shirt, her hair was mussed and could’ve been caused by the wind, and her lips were likely swollen, she just hoped he didn’t notice.

“She any good?” Sam asked, helping Dean to stand up and he brushed down his jeans. Dean nodded, his heated gaze locked on her.

“Well, I better go and find Ricky, I’ve nearly finished my report and I need him to deliver it to London,” she said, before turning and walking back through the maze.

Sam turned to Dean and he crossed his arms and he smirked at him. “She must be rather good in order to get you on the ground,” he commented.

“She distracted me,” Dean defended.

“I bet she did,” he smirked in reply. “She did look rather flustered.”

Dean kept a passive look on his face. “She can shoot,” he said, changing the subject.

“She can?” Sam asked surprised.

Dean nodded to the six cans on the ground and Sam stared at him surprised. “She shot all six of them from twenty feet away and without difficulty. Her father was in the military and taught her to shoot when she was eight. Apparently she’s good with knives, too.”

Sam blinked. “Maybe we should ask her to come with us tomorrow,” he mused and Dean once again kept his face passive.

~000~000~000~

It was the early hours of the morning and Hermione laid awake staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t sleep, she had tried and to be honest, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She couldn’t shut her thoughts off long enough to fall asleep, and she knew that if she did, she wouldn’t get much sleep with her memories haunting her. Since she had taken the Dreamless Sleep Potion the night she was attacked, it had messed up her schedule and so that option was out of the window.

She sighed and ran a hand over her face, pulling the blanket up to her chin and turning on the bed that she had transfigured from the couch. Her eyes caught that of someone entering the room and she didn’t know how, but she knew it was Dean.

He walked into the room and stopped when he saw her awake and staring at him. He wore sleep pants and a t-shirt, where she wore an old t-shirt and a pair of leggings.

“Have you been to sleep yet?” He asked, his voice sounding groggy as if he’d just woken up.

“No, I can’t sleep, you?”

“About an hour,” he confessed, running his hand through his hair and yawning.

Without thought, she shifted in her bed and lifted the blanket in invitation. It seemed he had been waiting for it as he had climbed into her bed behind her before she’d realised he’d done it.

They found themselves in a position that was beginning to feel familiar to them, Dean wrapping his arm around Hermione’s waist and her back pressed to his chest with his head buried in the crook of her neck.

“I never took you for the pyjama wearing type,” she spoke.

He snorted at her. “I’m not, but Sammy and Bobby would kill me if they found me wandering around naked.” She laughed at him, sighing as his hand slipped below her t-shirt to rest against the hot skin of her stomach. “Where did this bed come from?”

“It used to be the couch before I worked my magic on it,” she shrugged.

“You get the better deal; I sleep on the floor on an old blow-up mattress.”

“I thought Bobby had spare bedrooms,” she said confused.

“He does have a spare bedroom but there’s so much stuff in there you can barely move, Sammy sleeps on the couch in the study and I sleep in the storeroom,” he shrugged. “Have you decided yet?” He didn’t need to clarify; she already knew what he was referring to.

“No, I haven’t,” she admitted.

“We leave after breakfast; it’s a long-ass drive to our next case, so you haven’t got long to make up your mind.”

“Where are you heading?”

“Cambridge, it’s in...”

“Massachusetts, I know, it’s where Harvard University is located,” she said knowingly. “It also has a large number of bookselling establishments.” He snorted at her answer.

“Bookworm,” he muttered.

“I am supposedly The Brightest Witch of The Age, it comes with the territory,” she shrugged. “So, what are you after?”

“We’re not sure yet, and we won’t be until we get there and get our hands on the autopsy reports and speak to some of the locals. All we know is that several women have disappeared from the same night club and their bodies turned up three days later. There’s been five so far.”

“Any connection?”

“Similar physical appearance; blonde hair, brown eyes, five-foot-five to five-foot-six. We’re not sure how they died yet, but it’s being treated as a serial killer case.”

“Enter fake ID’s,” she mumbled and he chuckled against her neck.

“So, now that you know, are you coming with us?”

She sighed. “I don’t know.”

~000~000~000~

Sam was the first to be up and ready and as he made his way to the kitchen, he stopped when he saw Hermione and Dean both sleeping as they snuggled together. Sam had never seen them doing anything but that in their sleep, they were somehow drawn to each other in a way that can’t have been natural.

He looked up when Bobby entered the room, he, too, stopping at the sight of Hermione and Dean sleeping, both looking peaceful. Now Bobby had seen what happened to Hermione when she slept, and he had seen what happened to Dean, but they both looked relaxed and calm.

“That’s strange,” his gruff voice muttered and he shared a look with Sam before they both headed into the kitchen, leaving them to sleep.

Dean was the first to wake, not long after Sam and Bobby, the smell of coffee was what woke him and he looked down at Hermione, seeing her breathing even and deep, he knew she wasn’t yet going to wake. He untangled himself from around her and carefully climbed out of bed to not disturb her. He disappeared to get some clean clothes and he used the bathroom, before walking into the kitchen clean and ready for the coming day of travel.

“How do you always end up sleeping next to her?” Sam asked before he could even sit down and pour himself some coffee. “I mean, even when you’re in separate rooms you still end up sleeping with her, you even did it in the car yesterday.”

Bobby looked intrigued by that little tidbit of information.

“I don’t know, I sleep better when she’s near me, now drop it,” he said grumpily, taking a drink from his coffee mug.

“But...”

“Leave it, Sammy!” He snapped. Everyone fell silent as they stared each other down.

Hermione entered the room at that point and they turned to look at her.

“So, what do you want for breakfast?” She asked, yawning.

They all shrugged and she sighed and rolled her eyes, before proceeding to make some toast, eggs, bacon and sausages. Placing their plates in front of them and she made a cup of tea for herself, Merlin, she had missed being able to drink a decent cup of tea.

“We’re heading to Cambridge today,” Sam said, eyeing Dean carefully.

“Yes?” Hermione questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“We’ve got a case, and well, you should come with us,” he offered.

Dean’s attention snapped to her waiting to see what her answer would be.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline your invitation.”

Dean’s face fell at her words.

“Why?” Sam frowned, noticing Dean’s reaction, as did Bobby.

“Because I’ve already been invited to join you by someone else and I’ve decided to accept his proposal,” she answered. Dean’s eyes widened at her words before the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile.

“You have?” Sam asked surprised, his eyes flying between her and Dean.

“Yes, I have, now if you don’t mind, I’d better get my things in order before we leave.” She took her plate and mug over to the sink before leaving the kitchen.

“You asked her to come with us?” Sam asked Dean, still stunned.

He shrugged in response but shuffled nervously in his seat. “Yeah, we need her, she knows things that we don’t and we can learn from her, she told me there’s two types of werewolves _and_ vampires, and we need to know the difference between her type of witch and ours. If we end up killing one of her kind, it could have some serious repercussions.”

“That’s not why you asked her to come with us,” Sam replied knowingly.

“Yes, it is,” he denied.

“No, it’s not, I see you’ve decided to give things a go between the two of you,” he commented, but Dean didn’t respond, he just drank the last of his coffee and left the room.

~000~000~000~

They had spent all day driving, stopping for bathroom breaks and food before continuing on their way to Cambridge. It was a quiet drive with Sam reading another of Hermione’s books with a Silencing Charm around him, Dean listening to his music and Hermione also reading a book. Sam and Dean would swap every few hours, taking shifts of driving. They drove straight through the night and by the time they reached their destination, it was midday the next day.

Sam and Dean were arguing about which motel to stay at when Hermione interrupted, giving them instructions; since Dean was driving he followed them but looked at her curiously. They arrived thirty minutes later at their destination and Dean parked the car at the side of the road and they all climbed out.

“What are we doing here?” Sam asked, looking down the street that contained a few houses.

“We’re not staying at a motel because we don’t need to,” she responded, before digging out some parchment and a pen and scribbling away at it.

“Why?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll see,” she replied before handing them each a bit of parchment. “Read this out loud.”

They looked at her strangely before looking down at the parchment.

“Never tickle a sleeping dragon,” they both said aloud and they looked at her with raised eyebrows.

Suddenly the ground started shaking and they gawked as two houses were pushed apart, a large apartment complex coming into view. It stood tall with at least twenty floors and too many balconies to count, the white and sandy coloured bricks looked clean and new and the windows gleamed.

“What is that?” Sam spoke, looking at her shocked and she chuckled.

“I told you that we have a form of magic to hide properties.” They both nodded. “Well, this is it. _The Fidelius_ is placed on this property, meaning only those that know the address are able to enter or see it for that matter, and only the secret keeper is able to give out that address.”

“But you just gave it to us,” Dean commented.

“Yes, I did,” she agreed. Their eyes widened at the meaning. “Traditionally you use an address, but I thought, why not a password, or a slogan, so I used Hogwarts’ motto,” she shrugged. “Let’s go.” She walked forward and opened the glass doors, heading straight for the lift and they climbed in after her.

“This isn’t a regular lift, our lifts not only move up and down but from side to side so you may want to hold on,” she told them and they watched as she punched a code into the keypad before swiping a card over a scanner. The lift dinged before it shot up and Sam and Dean yelled in surprise and she chuckled.

The lift came to a sudden stop and they heard children laughing, just as three children ran into the lift. There were two boys and a girl. One of the boys had black hair and blue eyes, and the other had brown hair and green eyes, whereas the girl had blonde hair and brown eyes. They can’t have been older than ten.

“Hermione, you’re back!” The girl squealed excitedly when she saw her and she wrapped her arms around Hermione’s waist and Hermione chuckled and hugged her back.

“Hello, Gracie,” she smiled and when she pulled back, she found herself with two boys hugging her tightly and she laughed. “And hello, Jackson, Tyler,” she greeted.

“Hey, Hermione,” they grinned, pulling back from her.

“Have you been good for your parents?” She asked them.

“Yes,” the children chimed.

“Are you lying to me?”

“Yes,” they chimed once more and she laughed at them.

“At least you were honest,” she ruffled the little boys’ hair.

“Can you show us some magic?” The little girl asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“What would you like to see?”

The children began talking over each other and Hermione chuckled, the lift dinged and the doors opened and the children looked dejected.

“This is your floor, children,” she said before she conjured her blue-bell flames, one for each of them. They hugged her tightly before running out of the lift and disappearing from view.

She turned to see Dean and Sam staring at her with raised eyebrows.

“They know about magic?” Sam questioned. Hermione nodded.

“This is a magical apartment complex, everyone that resides here is either a witch or wizard or a child that is either attending school or will be at some point in time. Those three, Gracie is eight, Jackson is nine and Tyler is ten, they’ve lived here for the past three years with their parents. As far as I can tell, they’re all Half-bloods with two magical parents, muggles aren’t allowed in the building.”

“But we’re here,” Sam frowned.

“You are,” she said amused and then she stepped out of the lift when it came to the final stop, revealing the light flooring and the walls a calming blue colour with white accents.

She led them down the hallway and they stood still in shock as they entered an open planned living room and kitchen, decorated in light colours and marble, the living room filled with plush looking rugs and furniture and a large fireplace dominating the back wall.

“Hermione, why are we here?” Dean asked her, eyeing her warily.

“I live here,” she shrugged and they stared at her at that.

“You said muggles weren’t allowed in the building, what if the owner discovers that we’re here? He could kick you out,” Sam said.

She snorted. “The owner won’t kick me out.”

“You don’t know that,” he protested.

“I do, I own the building.”

They chocked on their intake of oxygen and she watched them amused.

“You own this place?” Dean asked slowly.

“I do, I bought it four years ago when it was a rundown apartment block. It took me a year to refurbish everything and extend the building and it cost a bloody fortune, too, but it was worth it,” she shrugged, turning and heading to the kitchen.

“Fuck!” Sam and Dean both cursed when there was a ‘crack’ and suddenly, in front of them stood a small green wrinkled creature with large brown eyes, wearing a white shirt, a black skirt and a white apron. Its bat-like ears had white fur on the tips and it had a large pointy nose.

“Mistress has returned!” The creature cried and it ran to Hermione and flung itself at her, hugging her around the legs.

Hermione chuckled and she bent down to hug the sobbing creature. “House-elf,” she explained to both Dean and Sam as they both put away their guns which they had pulled.

“Mimsy, I told you I would be back before you knew it.”

“Mimsy is happy to see Mistress,” the house-elf spoke, standing back and wiping at her eyes and Hermione smiled softly.

“And I’m really happy to see you, too, Mimsy. How are the others?”

Mimsy suddenly huffed and crossed her arms over her chest and Hermione stood up, Sam and Dean made their way over to them.

“They not listen to Mimsy, they not do as Mimsy say,” she glowered.

“Mimsy, they are only young,” Hermione reminded her softly.

“They is being one hundred years old, Mistress, they should be knowing better.”

“I’ll speak with them,” Hermione said.

“Good, now, what would Mistress be liking for dinner?”

“I can cook for myself.”

“Nonsense, when Mistress is home, Mimsy will cook,” she said, stomping her foot and she saw the brothers sniggering.

“Anything you make would be wonderful, thank you,” Hermione replied, knowing she wasn’t going to win the argument; Mimsy was a stubborn house-elf. “Mimsy, I would like to introduce you to my friends, this is Dean and Sam Winchester.”

The little elf turned towards them and eyed them as the brothers waved nervously. “They not be magical,” Mimsy said with narrowed eyes.

“No, Mimsy, they’re muggles, but they’re Hunters. They do the same thing as I do only without magic, they protect people and keep them safe,” she said softly. “So please be nice to my friends.”

“Mimsy is nice to every one of Mistress’ friends,” she said outraged and Hermione snorted.

“You weren’t nice to Ronald, nor were you nice to Jamie, or Ryan or Nathan,” Hermione pointed out.

“They were bad men, they not be kind to my Mistress, Mr. Ryan hurt my Mistress.” Hermione saw from the corner of her eye Dean flinch and his hands clenched into fists. “Mimsy do what Mimsy has to, to keep her Mistress safe.”

“And you will always be my friend for that,” she said softly.

Mimsy’s eyes started watering. “Mistress is Mimsy’s friend?” She said quietly.

“Of course I am, in fact, we’re family.”

Mimsy burst into tears and flung herself at Hermione’s legs once again.

“Mimsy loves Mistress.”

“And I love you, too, Mimsy,” she said, bending down to hug her. “Now, I think it’s time that you wrestle the others into their chores, don’t you?”

“Of course, Mistress, dinner will bes served at seven.”

“Thank you, Mimsy.”

With that, she disappeared with a ‘crack.’

“That was strange,” Sam commented and she stood up and turned to face them, shrugging.

“Not really, she’s always been like that.”

“I thought you don’t approve of slavery,” Dean said, leaning against the breakfast counter.

“I don’t and I don’t treat my house-elves as such. I currently employ thirty house-elves, they are paid weekly and they are given time off whether they like it or not. And I never treat them as anything less than human, nor do I hurt them or insult them. Those that I employ I rescued from abusive families. Mimsy is the oldest being two-hundred and six, the youngest is Kipper who is sixty-three, still a child in elf years. They have an entire floor to themselves and no one but I have access to it. They maintain the building for me, cleaning and fixing anything that may break. They only prepare meals for those that place an order to the kitchens and they only do laundry for those that ask, and they are paid to do so. Mimsy has been with me for the last six years and she used to live with me in London. When I started taking cases here she was left on her own and I didn’t like it, she needed to be with others of her kind. So when I bought this place, I brought her here and she’s happier than I’ve ever seen her.”

She could tell from the look on Dean’s face that he wanted to ask about the men she had mentioned and Mimsy’s reaction to them.

“Right then, I’ll give you a tour of the place and we can get started on the case, so let’s go.” She walked away and Dean reluctantly followed her, realising that she had done it on purpose.

She led them down a second corridor which contained four guest bedrooms, two bathrooms, a library and a potions lab -which were both warded shut- and her bedroom was at the end of the hall. She left them to get settled into their rooms and headed to the kitchen to make a sandwich; she was starving.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 10

Sam and Dean had left to go to the morgue and speak with the relatives of the victims, she had to stay behind as she received a message from one of her tenants complaining about a noise coming from the walls.

She had headed to the apartment and discovered there to be several Doxy’s living in the walls. Hermione had the problem dealt with in less than an hour and she returned to her own apartment. Realising that it would probably be a while since the brothers returned, she headed to her potions lab and started to make batches of potions she was low on.

It was almost seven when they returned and since she had forgotten to give them the access code and card to her floor, she was alerted to someone trying to break in so she went down and collected them.

“Sorry about that,” she said as they walked into her apartment. “I forgot that I didn’t give you the code or card to get on this floor, I’m the only one that has access since it’s the only apartment on this floor.”

“How many apartments are there in this building?” Sam asked her curiously.

“There are twenty floors, there are no apartments on the ground floor and neither is there on the nineteenth floor since that’s where the house-elves reside and we’re on the twentieth floor. The number of apartments on each floor varies. Some may have ten where others can have fifteen or sixteen. With magic the rooms are bigger on the inside, those that have families are given the larger apartments and those were there are only one or two tenants, they get the smaller ones, though each apartment has at least two bedrooms. I believe there are currently two-hundred and sixty-six apartments in total, I’d have to ask one of the house-elves to be sure.” They spluttered and gawked at the news. “I wanted this place to be family-friendly, a safe place where children can grow and explore. And believe me, they do explore,” she chuckled.

“I have hidden rooms around the complex and some of them even I don’t know what’s in them. I asked the contractors to surprise me. I know at least one of the rooms is an indoor play area, I know one of them is an area where magical children can learn to ride brooms without risk of being caught by a muggle, and I know one of them is an area where they can play with and train their familiars, but I know there’s also at least another thirteen hidden rooms.” They were surprised by that news and she chuckled at them. “So, what did you discover?” She asked them, leading them over to the table in the kitchen and they took seats.

“Each of the victims’ cause of death was different, one was strangled, another stabbed, another was shot, another hanged and the final one was pushed from a building,” Sam explained. Hermione frowned.

“Aside from their physical appearance connecting them, they were all in their mid-twenties, an only child and their parents had died,” Dean said. “They were all taken from the same night club and their bodies were dumped three days later, a couple of blocks from each other.”

“I spoke to the relatives and friends,” Sam piped up, “They said the same thing. They had last seen the victim leaving the club with a man with brown hair and brown eyes, approximately five-foot-eleven.”

“The victims are taken every four days, the body is dumped three days later, and then another victim goes missing the next day. Judging by that timeframe, the next victim will be taken tonight,” Dean said.

“Do you know what it is?” She asked.

“Demon,” they both answered without hesitation.

“We visited the dump sites and yellow powder was discovered at the scene, not mention, it reeked of sulphur, an indicator a demon has used their powers,” Sam shrugged.

“So you’re going to set a trap?” She guessed.

“We planned on it, the only problem being neither of us are blonde, nor a woman.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you have me.”

“What?” They asked confused.

She rolled her eyes before tapping her wand to her head and in front of their eyes, her hair turned from mahogany to blonde.

“I’m blonde with brown eyes and I’m five-foot-six. I’m twenty-six, I have no siblings and my parents are dead, I’m your perfect match.”

“What?” Dean asked, not looking happy at the thought of using her as bait.

“I’m your bait, I’ll lure this demon away from the club and when I do, you’ll be waiting for me outside, simple,” she shrugged.

“No, not simple; we’re not putting you in danger.”

Sam and Hermione both looked at him. “Shut up,” they said in unison and they turned to each other.

“Well then, after dinner I better find myself a party frock, it seems we’re going out tonight,” as she said those words dinner appeared on the table and she smiled and shook her head when she saw the fixings of a roast dinner.

“They spoil me,” she said with a fond smile.

~000~000~000~

They had been at the night club for the last two hours now and Dean had done nothing but glower at every man that went near Hermione, not that she knew since she had snuck them in and they’d gone their separate ways.

Sam was sat at a table, currently being chatted up by a redhead and brunette whilst Dean stood at the bar, his eyes glued to Hermione who was currently on the dance floor, lost in her own world as she swung her hips this way and that in time to the beat of the song, her eyes closed and her arms above her head, completely oblivious to what she was doing to him.

Her usual mahogany curls were no more, now they were blonde locks that she had straightened and left down, spilling over her shoulders. She wore a red spaghetti strap dress that clung to her frame and showed a small amount of cleavage. Her dress ended at her mid-thigh and on her feet, she wore black heels.

Dean had spent the last two hours glaring at every man that approached her and planning the murder of every man that touched her, and there had been many, but there hadn’t yet been a brunette.

Dean gripped the bottle of beer in his hand tightly when he saw yet another man approach her, though this one was brunette. His hands went to her hips and he pulled her back into him. Her hands wrapped around the back of his neck and he bent his head, placing kisses against her ivory skin.

Dean glared menacingly, that should’ve been him! And it would’ve been if they weren’t currently on a case.

His eyes locked onto Hermione’s and subtly she shook her head, letting him know it wasn’t the one they were looking for. He watched for another hour as men continued to paw at her and he was beginning to lose his patience, he’d seen Sam smirking at him in amusement more than once and he had to restrain himself from walking over to him and punching him in the face.

He also had to fend off the attention of many a woman that hit on him, usually, he wouldn’t have minded, but not only was he currently in the middle of setting a trap, it didn’t feel right to him to flirt with another woman, when he was...Well, with this thing he had with Hermione. It didn’t sit well with him, betraying her in that way and they weren’t even together, it was frustrating!

His eyes landed on the brunette that was heading his way and he catalogued her features as she approached him. Dark brown hair that was straight and fell to her shoulders, dark blue eyes and tanned skin and wearing a black dress that showed off more than what was considered appropriate, but he realised that although she was good looking, he didn’t think she was as pretty as Hermione. Usually, he wouldn’t have hesitated to charm her, but now he didn’t want to.

His eyes caught Hermione’s and she was dancing with the fifth brunette of the night, he knew, he‘d been counting. His hands were all over her and his head buried in her neck. She subtly nodded and he stood up straight, deposited the empty beer bottle on the bar and walked away before the brunette woman could reach him. He made his way over to Sam and came up behind him, clapping him on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry to interrupt ladies, but I need to steal my brother back,” he said, giving them a charming smile.

“Won’t you join us?” The redhead asked, shamelessly batting her eyelashes and leaning forward so he could easily see down her dress.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” he said to the pouting woman and then he turned to Sam. “It’s time,” he said and Sam nodded and made his excuses and they both left the club and went to the back alleyway, checking it was empty.

They had barely been there a minute when they heard a giggling and heels clacking against the ground. Sam and Dean ducked behind the bins and watched as Hermione pulled the brunette down the alley by his hand, right to where they had painted the demon trap earlier before they’d entered the club. If he were able to walk straight over it, he was human and they had the wrong person, if not, things had gone to plan, which they rarely did.

Hermione dropped his hand and walked backwards, beckoning the brunette with her finger. He smirked and stepped forward and right into the trap and it was just their luck that he wasn’t able to leave. That almost never happened.

Drunken Hermione was gone, not that she was drunk, she’d had one drink to steel her nerves and then nothing else. She’d been told in the past that she was very good at playing the drunken damsel in distress and it came in handy, and once again, it had worked.

She stopped giggling, her smile dropped and she stopped stumbling, standing up straight with her legs spread slightly and her arms crossed.

“Idiot,” she sighed and then she stepped back as Sam and Dean stepped out of the shadows and into view.

“Winchesters,” the brunette sneered and his eyes suddenly turned black.

Hermione stepped back further and allowed the brothers to deal with the demon, whilst she cast a Silencing Charm and a Notice-Me-Not Charm around them in case anyone was to stumble onto them.

Hermione watched in fascination as Sam began the exorcism chant and before she knew it, the man was screaming and black smoke was pouring out of his mouth and it was pulled down underground.

The man collapsed to the ground.

“That was a lot easier than usual,” Dean commented and Sam stepped forward to check the man’s pulse.

“He’s dead,” he informed them, though he didn’t seem surprised.

“Well, I suppose it’s for the best,” Hermione spoke, “The police would’ve eventually figured out it was him and he would’ve been punished for something he had no part in, what do you want to do with the body?”

“Just leave it, someone will find it and it’ll be dealt with, it’s a good thing you changed your appearance, at least no one will be able to identify you as the last person to see him alive.”

She nodded in agreement. “Right then, I want to get back and have a shower,” she shivered at the thought of having all those hands on her and she noticed Dean glowering at the ground.

“Dean’ll have to drive, he’s only had one beer, I on the hand am surprised I’m not yet slurring,” Sam said and she snorted at him as they headed out of the alley and back to the Impala.

They returned to the apartment before they knew it and Hermione kicked her shoes off and sighed in relief. “Right boys, I’m off to shower and then I’m going to bed, I’ll see you in the morning,” she spoke and she picked up her heels and walked to her room.

“How many deaths have you planned?” Sam asked knowingly.

“Twenty-three,” Dean muttered darkly and he stalked off, leaving Sam’s laughter behind him.

~000~000~000~

Hermione stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed and cleansed of all those grabby hands and she towel-dried her hair before using a Drying Charm and her hair fell down her back in a tangle of ringlets.

She slipped on a pair of blue satin sleep shorts and the matching spaghetti strap top before brushing her teeth and heading out of her bathroom and to her queen-sized bed.

She flopped down onto it and looked around at her familiar surroundings. Her bedroom walls were lilac with silver accents, a soft lilac carpet covered the ground and silver curtains blocked out the light from the windows. Her bed was in the centre of her room against the back wall with a bedside table to the right. She had a small couch against the left wall with a table sat in front of it and a door on the right wall led to the en-suite bathroom, whilst the other led to her walk-in closet, and floating candles moved about the room, the flames flickering and giving the only light in the room.

She’d missed her bed and she sighed happily as she climbed up the mattress and got under the covers, settling down for sleep when there was a knock at the door. She frowned and climbed out of bed, walking over to the door she opened it to see Dean pacing back and forth.

“When you’re quite through with walking a hole into my lovely new floor, can you explain what it is you want that requires you to be at my door at this time of night?” She asked amused.

He stopped pacing at the sound of her voice and he just stared at her, she could see the emotions crossing his face but it was happening so quickly she couldn’t decipher them.

“Well?” She questioned with an arch of her eyebrow.

She squealed in surprise when he stepped forward, pulled her into him and kissed her, quickly slipping his tongue into her mouth to twine and dance with hers.

He shut her bedroom door behind him and walked her back until she hit the bed and fell backwards. He followed her barely taking his lips from hers as they moved up the bed to the pillows. Her hands had long since buried themselves into his hair and his gripped at her hips under her top whilst he was cradled in her thighs. He pulled his mouth from hers to trail kisses across her cheek and down her neck, sucking at her skin in order to leave a mark of possession.

“What’s brought this on?” She mumbled, turning her head to give him better access and tugging on his hair.

“I’ve planned the deaths of twenty-three men,” he muttered against her neck and she laughed breathlessly before gasping when he pushed himself against her. There wasn’t much separating them, just her thin shorts and his thin pyjama bottoms, so she could easily feel the bulge that was beginning to make itself known.

“You were jealous,” she commented, moaning when he bucked into her again.

“They had their hands on something that didn’t belong to them,” he muttered quietly, but she had heard.

She snorted. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

“The mark I’ve left on your neck says otherwise,” he said smugly, moving to the other side of her neck to leave another mark.

“Shut up,” she muttered, pulling him back to her mouth.

Her hands slipped from his hair and they found their way under his t-shirt, trailing the expanse of his hot skin and the muscle in his shoulders and back. He pulled back from her, sitting up and inadvertently straddling her legs as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. Though the minute his t-shirt had cleared his head, he knew something was wrong.

Hermione had stiffened beneath him, her eyes no longer looked lustful, but instead fearful; she had stopped breathing and was her body shook beneath him.

“What is it?” He asked her frowning.

“Please don’t do that,” she whispered, her voice sounding vulnerable and terrified.

His frown deepened before he realised why she had tensed up. It was something to do with Bowman. He quickly grabbed her and pulled her on top of him, so she sat straddling his lap and they faced each other.

“Take deep breaths,” he encouraged her, his hands splayed on her hips under her top, his thumbs rubbing over her skin soothingly. “He’s gone and he can’t hurt you or anyone else,” he said softly, watching as she slowly gained control of her fear and she relaxed against him, the fearful look disappearing from her eyes, now showing guilt.

“Sorry,” she muttered. He gave her a lopsided grin. “I guess the moment’s ruined now, huh?” She crossed her arms over her chest and avoided his eyes.

He raised an eyebrow at her before pulling her against him, bucking his hips and she gasped, feeling that she had definitely _not_ ruined the moment.

“I wouldn’t say so,” he commented, an amused smile on his lips. “Just tell me what to avoid and we’ll be fine.”

She took a deep breath before closing her eyes and nodding. “Don’t do what you just did, it reminded me of him, when I woke up that’s what I saw. He was straddling me, shirtless and I couldn’t move.”

“Alright, I won’t do that again,” he promised. “Anything else?”

“Don’t,” she took another breath. “Don’t put your hands around my throat.”

He didn’t need an explanation for that, he‘d seen the bruises that‘d been left on her and the reminder of them filled him with anger. Oh, how he wished Sam had let him get at least one punch in.

“I would never do that,” he said softly, “Is there anything else?”

He took his hands from her hips and brought them up to her crossed arms, pulling them away from her chest, before moving his hands back to her hips. She sighed and opened her eyes, locking her gaze with his and her arms came up to wrap around his neck.

“And don’t pin my hands above my head.”

He nodded. “What about on either side of your head?” He asked, the corners of his mouth were twitching and she couldn’t stop herself from laughing at him.

“That’s fine,” she confirmed and he smirked at her, leaning forward to kiss her but she pulled back and he raised an eyebrow.

“I have scars,” she told him.

“I have scars, too,” he replied confused.

“I was a soldier and I suffered, I don’t have a flawless body or unblemished skin. I have scars, ugly scars,” she warned.

He held her gaze. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

She sighed and when he leaned in this time, she didn’t pull back but met his lips with hers. The minute their lips touched it was as if they hadn’t been interrupted and the lust they had been feeling filled them both, spurring them on. Dean’s hands gripped her top and he dragged it up her body, she pulled back from him so he could lift it over her head and when it cleared her arms, she latched back onto his mouth.

He flipped them putting Hermione on her back and he was once more cradled in her thighs. He pulled back from her, his eyes locking on her bare breasts since she hadn’t been wearing a bra. His eyes darkened and he ducked his head, flicking his tongue across her nipple and she moaned as his mouth closed around the peak, she was tugging at his hair harshly as she wriggled beneath him. He looked up at her, far too pleased with himself at the noises she was emitting and when he did that, he caught sight of a scar. He released her nipple and pushed himself up on to his hands so he could look down at her. She gritted her teeth and waited for the insults and the disgust, but it never came.

He was surprised to see the size of the scar, fucking hell, it put all of his scars to shame. He had never seen anything like it. It was large and thick, starting at her right shoulder and moving diagonally down her body, going through the valley of her breasts and under her left breast until is stopped near her left hip.

Why was she so worried about her scar? She was still beautiful, even more so because he knew what she had suffered to save the world, he knew what she had gone through to protect people from monsters.

He ducked his head once more, this time trailing her scar with teasing kisses, his tongue darting out teasingly and she gasped and wriggled underneath him, inadvertently moving her hips against his.

By the time he reached the end of her scar, he trailed his lips across her stomach, just above the waistband of her shorts and he hooked his hands into them, pulling them down. She shifted her hips to allow him to do so and he was surprised when he saw she wasn’t wearing underwear, even more so when he saw that she was hairless, apart from the small triangle patch above her folds.

Now, what should he do?

Should he tease her the way she had him? Should he draw it out? Should he just give in to his desire?

He knew he was far too curious about what she had revealed, he wanted to know what happened to her when she had sex, how she was affected. It had been driving him insane.

Hermione grabbed him and pulled him up to her, crashing her mouth to his. Dean’s hands roamed her body, feeling several raised scars under his fingers as he did so, but in all honesty, the scars didn’t bother him, in fact, they had the opposite effect.

His hand skimmed her folds and she bucked up into him.

Okay, maybe he would tease her a little bit.

He slipped his fingers through her folds, nudging her nub and massaging her entrance, her wetness coating his fingers. She whimpered against his mouth when he slipped a finger into her and her hips moved against his hand, he could already feel her beginning to flutter around him and he had barely touched her. He slipped a second finger in and she clenched around him tightly, fuck! He hadn’t realised she would be so tight.

He pulled his mouth from hers and buried his lips against the skin of her neck, nibbling and sucking. She was panting, her chest rising and falling and her breasts brushing his chest with every breath she took. He vaguely heard her cursing under her breath and her hands moved from his hair to grip at his shoulders. His thumb found her nub and he brought his lips closer to her ear.

“Just think, if I can work you up like this, imagine what I can do with my mouth,” he whispered her words back to her.

A wave of pleasure Hermione had never felt before flooded through her and it made her want to cry. She gasped loudly, her nails bit into his shoulders and her head flew back as he felt her walls suddenly tightened around his fingers, trying to pull him in further. He pulled his head back to watch her pleasure-filled face. Her mouth parted slightly, her face flushed pink and her eyes screwed shut. She was beautiful.

Her eyes opened and they revealed that her eyes were no longer human. They were still the same chocolate brown, only there was bright yellow slit down the centre, an accurate description would be that of a cat’s eyes.

He wasn’t sure if he should feel amused, surprised or creeped out, but Hermione distracted him, pulling his mouth down to hers and her hands moved over his back, around to his stomach and they moved lower. She fiddled with the waistband of his bottoms, before slipping her hand in and gripping his hardened length in her hand. He groaned into her mouth as she worked him over, and deciding that there had been enough teasing, he couldn’t control his need to be inside her any longer.

He grabbed her hand and moved it away from his length, before pulling back to see that she looked less than impressed, even as her eyes glowed in the darkness of the room and the only light came from a few floating candles.

He smirked at her before quickly removing his bottoms and pouncing on her, crashing his mouth against hers. His length nudged against her and she moaned into his mouth, digging her nails into his biceps and shifting underneath him to bring her legs up and wrap them around his hips. Her hand snaked between them and she gripped his length, gave a few pumps of her hand and then guided him to her entrance, his tip nudging against her and she lifted her hips higher as he pushed forward and slowly sunk into her.

“Oh God,” she muttered.

“Not a God, only human,” he mumbled as he buried his face against her neck and her nails bit into him harshly, she gasped loudly and moaned beneath him, and he muttered against her neck as her walls pulled him in further, tightening around him.

“Warm...Soft...Tight,” he mumbled incoherently as he gritted his teeth against the pained pleasure he was feeling.

“Pelvic floor exercises,” she muttered in reply and he groaned when she deliberately clenched her walls around him.

He took a deep calming breath before pulling back and lifting himself onto his elbows to look down at her. Her eyes were closed tightly, her lips parted slightly and her skin was flushed a darker pink than before.

He pulled his hips back and slowly sunk into her, watching her face as he did so. He kept a steady rhythm, watching how each of his thrusts affected her, listening to the noises he was able to pull from her, feeling the way her body clenched around him every time he pulled back, as if trying to keep him inside of her.

He hissed when he felt her nails pierce the skin on his arms, feeling the warm droplets running down his skin. He thrust into her harder at that and she gave a loud moan and her eyes flew open. Her eyes were brighter than before, and although he knew he should be freaked out, he couldn’t help feeling smug that he was the cause of it. He picked up the pace, thrusting into her harder and faster and he noticed how the sounds changed. Rather than gasping and moaning, she was now whining and whimpering.

He pulled her hands from his arms and remembering her words, he was careful to only pin them on either side of her head, before leaning down and taking her mouth in a possessive and consuming kiss, catching her whines and whimpers in the back of his throat.

Her hips moved against his and her legs slipped higher up his body, from his hips to his waist and he was able to move deeper inside of her. He groaned into her mouth when he could feel her walls beginning to flutter. He changed the angle of his hips, hitting a spot inside of her that had her tearing her mouth from his and flinging her head back. She tore her hands away from him and her nails went to his shoulders.

“Fuck!” He cursed when Hermione let out a strange purring sound, her walls clamped around him tightly, to the point where it was hard to distinguish between pain and pleasure and her suddenly sharp nails raked down his back drawing blood.

His entire body felt as though it were on fire and the tightly coiled spring within in him snapped, his entire body tingling and his balls aching as he released inside of her.

If they had been paying attention they would’ve noticed the flames of the candles flaring up.

They would’ve noticed the furniture in the room shake.

They would’ve noticed the tattoo of runes that banded around their ring fingers, before disappearing from view, becoming invisible.

And they most certainly would’ve noticed Castiel stood in the corner of the room, with a deep frown on his face, before he disappeared.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count:12

He dropped on top of her, they were both breathless and panting and Hermione felt boneless. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she forced them down, she would not cry in front of him, not after what he’d just made her feel. Something she thought was impossible, she thought she was broken, but he went and proved her wrong.

He was placing butterfly kisses against her neck and shoulders, before he lifted his head and buried his hands in her hair, kissing her languidly. He pulled back for air and then shuffled off her, lying down beside her and wrapping her up in his arms with the blanket covering them.

“I knew it,” he said tiredly, his head buried in the crook of her neck.

“What?” She asked, trying to keep her voice calm, though on the inside she was far from it.

“The sex would be fantastic,” he mumbled and Hermione held in a sob at that, and he was asleep minutes later, his breathing even and she could feel his smile pressed against the skin of her neck.

Hermione waited a few minutes before carefully extracting herself from his hold and she climbed out of bed, she found her shorts and slipped them on, along with Dean’s discarded t-shirt which fell past her shorts. She found her wand and put out the candles before creeping out of the room and heading to the living room.

With tears now falling down her face, and not caring for the time difference, she floo'd to London.

~000~000~000~

Hermione stumbled out of the floo in the study of 12 Grimmauld Place. At the sound of the floo, Harry entered the room, looking as though he were about to head to bed himself, and given the time in London, it meant he had been working late at the office.

When he saw Hermione, now a sobbing mess, he rushed over to her and hugged her tightly.

“What happened?” He asked her quickly, and he managed to pull her to the couch where she sat down and curled into him as she cried.

“Dean... we...”

“You?” He prompted.

“He made me....”

He bristled and anger filled him. “What did he make you do?” He asked, anger laced into his words.

“He... made... me... orgasm,” she got out through her wracking sobs and Harry felt the anger leaving him, realising that she wasn’t hurt, just confused. 

“He did?” He questioned softly, rubbing her back and she nodded against his shoulder.

“Twice,” she sniffled. “I thought I was broken Harry, I thought there was something wrong with me.”

“Maybe the others weren’t that good in bed,” he offered.

She sniffled and laughed. “Harry I slept with Adrian Bloody Pucey, there’s a reason he’s known as ‘The Sinful Slytherin.’” He rolled his eyes at the title. “I’ve been with eight men and none of them has been able to do what Dean’s just done.”

“Fluke?”

“No, it wasn’t, he didn’t just make me orgasm, he brought out the feline traits in me.”

“The others have done that before,” he mentioned.

“Not like Dean, I know with the others my eyes changed, they always told me when it happened and some of them were frightened by it.”

“And?”

“Dean didn’t ask me about it, I think he actually found it funny. And I grew claws, which has never happened before, not with anyone, I scratched his back to the point of drawing blood, and I purred at him.”

“You purred?” He asked disbelievingly.

She nodded. “I bloody well purred, like a Kneazle in heat.” He snorted at her and she weakly slapped his chest. “He didn’t even bat an eyelash when he saw my scars, he didn’t insult me and he didn’t look disgusted either. Harry, I don’t know what’s happening. He’s the only man that’s been able to make me orgasm. Did you know he can calm me after a nightmare?”

“I thought I was the only one able to do that,” he said surprised.

“So did I, and since that night when we passed out drunk, we’ve slept beside each other, whether it be in the car, in a bed or on a couch, even if we’re sleeping in separate rooms or separate beds, we always end up sleeping beside each other,” she admitted. “I sleep better beside him; my nightmares aren’t as vivid when he’s nearby. I’m drawn to him and I have been since day one, and I’m not the only one, Dean confessed the same, he’s drawn to me and Sam’s drawn to me, too, but in a familial way.”

“You think there’s magic involved,” he stated.

“Isn’t there Harry? He made me bloody orgasm! Twice!”

He snorted at her and smiled when she pulled back to look at him. Her cheeks were shining from her tears and her eyes were red, but she was a lot calmer.

“There’s something about him, Harry, and the thought of him with another woman knocks me ill, and from what I can tell, he feels the same. The only reason we ended up having sex is that he came to my room, pacing back and forth, muttering about how he had planned the deaths of twenty-three men.” He raised an eyebrow. “We were working a case; a demon was abducting and killing blonde women with brown eyes, in their mid-twenties, that were only children and orphans.”

“With a simple spell to change your hair, you’re the perfect victim,” he nodded in understanding.

“We went to the night club and I was bait, it took three hours to find the guy responsible but we did. I often caught him just staring at me whilst I was dancing, and when a man approached me, I could practically feel the death glare he was sending their way.” He chuckled at her words. “He shouldn’t be so possessive of me, nor me of him, not after barely even a week. I shouldn’t feel this way, it’s not natural.”

He could see she was distressed. “Hermione, calm down,” he said gently. “If you’re correct and magic is involved, I’m sure you’ll figure it out, but in the meantime, you need to come to terms with this. You obviously like Dean and as for the sex...”

“Bloody fantastic sex,” she interrupted making Harry laugh.

“As for the bloody fantastic sex,” he corrected amused, “Maybe you should enjoy it, who knows what will develop between the two of you?”

“He’s asked me to come with him and Sam.” He raised an eyebrow at her statement. “He wants me to travel with them, working on cases, I’ll help them with theirs and they’ll help me with mine, we’ll both learn about what the other knows.”

“It’s not a bad idea, it could help to build bridges between Hunters and wizarding folk, preventing any killings of our people,” he commented and she nodded.

“He said he wants to see what could happen between us. The more time I spend around him, the deeper my attraction becomes and the pull towards him becomes stronger. I like being around him, he doesn’t treat me as others do, and I don’t think he’d hurt me the way the others did.” He glowered at her words, knowing what and who she was referring to. “He treats me as though I’m a regular person, as though I’m not famous, or rich, or powerful, or smart, just a normal person. He doesn’t even flinch anymore when I use magic around him.”

“You like him,” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

She sighed, “Yes, I do, I like him. I _trust_ him, Harry. He’s more like me than you realise.” He arched his eyebrow at her. “We both have suffered and faced evil at its truest form and survived, we’re both tainted and scarred, we both fight to protect our loved ones and we both protect the innocent. We have different backgrounds, but we’re the same in so many ways, it’s strange.”

He chuckled at her. “Can you see yourself with him in the future?” He asked curiously.

She frowned. “For some reason, I can, whether it’s only a few weeks from now or even a few months, I can see him being a part of my future, no matter how long it lasts or if it lasts.”

“Stop worrying Hermione, you’ll be fine, just enjoy yourself and don’t get yourself killed. Now, you better get back to him before he wakes up and realises that you aren’t there.”

She sighed and nodded, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek.

“Goodnight, Harry,”

“Night, ‘Mione,” he said, as she stood and disappeared through the floo.

~000~000~000~

When Hermione entered her room and shut the door behind her, it was to see Dean wrapped around her pillow. She looked down at herself and debated removing her clothes so it wouldn’t be suspicious, but she decided against it and climbed into bed. The moment she laid down, Dean released the pillow and pulled her into him, a humming sound leaving him as he wrapped himself around her and buried his head into her neck. She held back a chuckle and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.

~000~000~000~

Hermione had no idea what time it was, but she was woken by the feel of soft kisses being placed against her neck and a possessive hand pressed flat against her stomach under her t-shirt, whilst fingers trailed over part of her scar.

“Morning,” she said groggily, turning onto her back to stretch with her hands above her head.

“Why are wearing clothes?” Dean asked, seeming to be far more awake than she was and looking down at her with a raised eyebrow.

She shrugged. “I woke up and I was hungry, so I made a sandwich.” It wasn’t a lie; when she returned from Harry’s she had made a sandwich because she'd been hungry. He looked amused by her answer.

 _‘When isn’t she hungry?’_ He thought amused.

“Now that you’re awake, why don’t you explain to me what happened last night.”

“Well, when two people are attracted to each other and they...” She squealed when he bent his head and nipped at her neck.

“Oh, I know what happened last night,” he said against her ear, a husky tone to his voice. “I meant with your eyes.”

“Why? Did it freak you out?”

“No, it didn’t, it was just strange.”

“I told you I was affected by something that happened to me when I was thirteen, that was one of the side effects.”

“So why were your eyes like a cat’s?”

“Harry, Ron and I needed a way to get into the Slytherin common room because we needed to know what Draco knew about the Heir of Slytherin, this was our second year and the time of the Chamber of Secrets being opened. I brewed Polyjuice Potion and it took me a month, all we needed was the hair of the person we wished to turn into. Harry and Ron knocked out Crabbe and Goyle using the cakes I had laced with a Sleeping Potion, and I had already retrieved my hair. Their transformations went perfectly, mine, however, didn’t.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I took my hair from a girl’s robes, and I believed it to belong to her. It turned out it belonged to her cat. Polyjuice is only meant for human transfiguration, not animals. I was turned into a strange human-cat hybrid. I’m talking pointed furry ears, whiskers, cat eyes and a bloody tail.” He stared, eyes wide before he started laughing. “It’s not funny, I was stuck in the hospital wing for two weeks until I was cured, but even now, I’m still affected by it and the traits tend to come out during sex.”

“So. your eyes?”

“Yes, it always happens during sex, but last night I showed a few traits that have never shown themselves before.”

“Really?” he perked up, looking far too pleased with himself at that news.

“Yes, my eyes didn’t just change, I purred at you which has never happened before and I grew cat-like claws, which again, has never happened before. Speaking of, show me your back, I know for a fact I scratched you deeply enough to draw blood, I’ll have to heal it for you.”

“I think you should leave it,” he smirked at her.

“Of course you do,” she rolled her eyes. “Fine, let it get infected, see if I care.”

He chuckled, lowering his head and nibbling at neck, she sighed and threaded her hands through his hair. He shifted on top of her, cradling himself in her thighs and she could feel the hard length of him resting against her.

“I want to see if I can make you purr again,” he whispered against her ear and she shuddered beneath him as his hands gripped the t-shirt and he pulled it over her head, dropping it to the ground. His eyes darkened when her bare breasts were revealed to him.

“But I’m hungry,” she whined.

He smirked down at her. “So am I,” he replied and she moaned as he ducked down and pulled a nipple into his mouth, his hands moving down her body until he reached her shorts and his hands gripped at the waistband.

He pulled away from her long enough to remove the offending material and he continued with his exploration of her body, moving his mouth lower and lower over her stomach until he came to the apex of her thighs.

Hermione’s eyes had darkened and her breath hitched when his breath ghosted over her. He gave her a wicked smirk before pushing her thighs further apart and burying his head between her legs, taking a long, slow swipe, groaning at the taste of her. She let out a whimper and her hands fisted the sheets of her bed, her chest rose and fell and her face was likely flushed but she didn’t care, the wicked things the man was doing with his tongue made her lose all thought.

She had only had this done a few times, but after being left frustrated she’d not allowed anyone to do so again. But when Dean sucked her nub into mouth and swirled his tongue teasingly over it, dipping two fingers into her entrance, she didn’t care if he was unable to give her release, she just didn’t want him to stop.

He looked up at her over her pelvic bone, to see that her eyes had once again changed; now there were more feline-like, like they had been the night before. He groaned seeing the change and the vibrations of the sound had Hermione mewling, her hands coming away from the sheets to tangle in his hair and tugging harshly on the strands. He pumped his fingers inside of her whilst his mouth worked its magic on her nub, and to her relief and surprise, he pulled an orgasm from her.

Her head flew back and her nails turned claw-like, scraping against his scalp. He lapped at her and just as she was coming down from her high, he shifted himself and pushed into her, catching the tail-end of her orgasm. Her walls pulled him into her and they both let out noises of pleasure.

Dean was quite sure he could die a happy man right now. Watching as Hermione wriggled and writhed beneath, as she wrapped her thighs around him, allowing him to move deeper and she lifted her hips to meet each of his thrusts. As her eyes shone and he could feel her nails, once again drawing blood from where they were digging into his shoulders. He listened carefully, listened to the sounds she was making and to boost his ego, he realised that she wasn’t only whimpering and keening, she was, in fact, purring.

He ducked his head down to leave yet another possessive mark on her, totalling it up to three now, and he groaned when she turned her head to suck his earlobe into her mouth, nibbling and he could hear the purring, he could feel it rumbling in her chest as their bodies were pressed tightly together.

He shifted his hips, changing the angle and the minute he did, Hermione’s head flew back and a loud purr left her lips as her already tight walls clamped down on him so tightly, it was bordering painful and he was helpless to hold it back, especially when her nails once again clawed at his back and he could feel the warm liquid running down his skin.

His entire body felt as though he were on fire and he tingled, as he came inside of her he cursed and gripped the pillow on either side of Hermione’s head. If he weren’t already so close to her, he would’ve collapsed on top of her. Instead, he settled for burying his head into her neck as she purred against his ear and her hands softly ran through his hair.

“I’m hungry,” Hermione suddenly said, breaking the silence.

Dean pulled his head back to look down at her, watching her eyes slowly return to her usual chocolate brown. She had a sleepy sated smile on her face and he chuckled at her.

“That’s all you have to say?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re already arrogant enough as is it, I don’t want to boost your ego; you won’t be able to fit through the door.”

“But I made you purr,” he said smugly.

She sighed, “You’re the only man that’s made me purr,” she confessed, and despite not wanting to boost his ego, she had done so.

He shifted off her and pulled her against him.

She sighed. “I’m hungry, but I can’t be bothered making breakfast, I hate doing this,” she muttered, as she snuggled against him.

“Doing what?” He asked.

She sat up and pulled the blanket to cover herself, Dean sat up and her eyes trained on his well-defined chest as the blanket pooled around his waist. She pulled herself together when she saw him smirk.

“Mimsy,” she called.

Dean jumped when she appeared in the room before Hermione had even finished speaking.

“What can Mimsy do for Mistress?” She asked, bowing, her eyes narrowing on Dean when she saw their current state of undress and no doubt their rumpled appearances, of which you could only associate with sex.

“Can you please tell me the time?”

“Of course, Mistress, it be 09:47,” she said.

“Thank you, is Sam awake?”

“Yes, Mistress, Mr. Sam left thirty minutes ago, he tell Mimsy he want to run and he would get breakfast whilst he be out. Mimsy tell him he not do that, Mimsy make breakfast for him, but he not listen.” Dean snorted at the annoyed look on the house-elf’s face. “Would Mistress be liking breakfast?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” she smiled.

“What would Mistress be liking?”

“A cup of tea, some pancakes with chocolate sauce and bananas and some eggs, bacon and toast, please,” she answered.

“Yes, Mistress, would the Sirs be liking breakfast?” She turned her attention to Dean and Hermione laughed when his eyes widened and Mimsy stared at him with narrowed eyes.

“Err, please,” he said nervously.

Mimsy huffed when he didn’t specify what he wanted. “What would the Sirs’ be liking?”

Hermione laughed louder as he shifted on the bed uncomfortably.

“A cup of coffee, with some bacon, eggs, sausages, toast and fried tomatoes?” He questioned.

“Mimsy do as the Sir wishes,” she nodded. “What would Mistress be liking for dinner?”

“Mimsy, I am able to cook dinner myself, that’s why I have a lovely kitchen,” Hermione responded.

Mimsy stomped her foot and crossed her arms. “Mistress will not be cooking when she be home and Mimsy be here.”

Hermione sighed and Dean chuckled at her, even as she leaned back, turning slightly to lean against him.

“Anything you prepare will be wonderful as always.”

“Will there be pie?” Dean piped up, wrapping his arms around Hermione.

“Would the Sir be likings pie?” Mimsy questioned, looking excited that she had been asked to specifically make something, rather than being given free choice.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” he said, looking sheepish when Hermione scowled at him.

“Yes, Sirs, what pie would you be liking?”

“Now there’s the question,” he frowned.

“Mimsy, Dean would love any pie that you would make for him, it’s his favourite dessert food, why don’t you surprise him?”

“Mimsy do as Mistress suggests,” she nodded. Her eyes then narrowed once again, looking between the two of them. “Has the Sir been kind to Mistress?”

“Yes, Mimsy, he is very kind to me.”

“Would Sir be hurting my Mistress?” She glared at Dean and he gulped, despite the size of the little-elf, he was slightly afraid.

“I would never hurt Hermione, she would make sure I’d regret it,” he replied.

Mimsy smiled proudly at Hermione and noticed the way Dean placed kisses to her shoulder.

“Mimsy like the Sir, he be good for my Mistress, you a good man.” Dean stared in surprise as the house-elf disappeared from view.

“Wow,” Hermione said, turning to look up at him. “You should be honoured; she doesn’t like anyone except for Harry, she’s very protective of me.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he said, looking down at her and then he kissed her shoulder once more.

Hermione not wanting to get up just yet, laid back down and Dean followed her, pulling her into him.

“How did you get this?” She asked him, her fingers trailing over the three raised scars close to his hip.

“Werewolf,” he responded.

“And this?” She circled the small circular scar near it.

“Bullet wound, Sammy shot me.” She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Long story,” he shrugged and she rolled her eyes.

She pointed to the hand-shaped scars on both of his upper arms, close to his shoulders.

“From when Cas pulled me from hell.”

“And this?” She pointed to a scar on his left, a straight thick line.

“Stabbed by a shape-shifter.”

“You don’t half get injured a lot,” she mused.

He raised an eyebrow at her and quickly rolled her on to her back and he hovered over her.

“You’re one to talk,” he rested on his elbow and used his free hand to trail down her scar.

“How’d you get this?”

“I was sixteen, I got this from the battle at the Department of Mysteries, courtesy of Antonin Dolohov, a crazy fucker if you ask me. I was able to silence him, even casting the curse non-verbally it did some serious damage to me, if he had spoken the incantation, I would’ve died a slow and painful death.” She saw the look of anger on his face. “He’s dead, so you can’t kill him,” she informed him. He looked disappointed and she chuckled.

“These?” He asked, his fingers moving to trail the small collection of scars on her stomach close to her right hip.

“I was eighteen, I got them from jumping out of a two-story window. We were on the run, Ron had left and Harry and I walked into a trap. In order to stop him from being eaten alive by a giant snake, I pushed him out of the window and cushioned his fall, this is from the glass.”

“And this?” He ran his finger over her neck lightly, trailing the scar.

“Eighteen, after I had been tortured by the crazy bitch, Bellatrix, Harry and Ron came to rescue me, she held a knife against my throat,” she shrugged.

“This?” He touched her shoulder where there was a burn scar.

“Final Battle, hit with a ricocheted _Incendio_ and I didn’t see it coming.”

“Any more?” He asked, not being able to see anymore on her stomach.

“Yes, I have one on my leg from a werewolf, a large one on my back from being caught in the Final Battle with a _Sectumsempra_ , and I have one on my left shoulder after a bad experience with a hippogriff.”

She lifted her hand to push her riotous curls out of her face and that’s when he saw it. The word ‘Mudblood’ carved into her arm in ugly, jagged lettering. It was raised and still looked pink. He took her arm and frowned at it, he felt her tense beneath him.

“What does it mean?”

“It’s a derogatory term for a Muggleborn, for someone of my blood. It means dirty blood, filth, vermin. I was branded this so that I could never forget my place in the world. So that I could never forget that I was inferior to everyone.”

He was angered and horrified by her words.

“What’s this for?” She asked him, changing the subject and he looked down to see her tracing the shape of his anti-possession tattoo.

“It stops demons from trying to possess my body, Sam has one, too. Now that you mention it, now that you’re with us, you should probably get one as well.”

“A tattoo?”

“Scared?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, it wouldn’t be my first tattoo.”

“It wouldn’t?” He asked surprised as he hadn’t seen a tattoo on her and she looked at him amused.

“It wouldn’t, I have a tattoo on my shoulder, a phoenix, we all have one,” she shrugged.

“We?” He questioned.

“Yes, me, Harry, Ginny, Ronald, George, Bill, Charlie and even Kingsley. We don’t mention it because Mrs. Weasley hates tattoos and we wouldn’t hear the end of it, it’s why we all got them on our shoulders, it’s easy to cover. So if I get this tattoo,” her fingers were still tracing his tattoo, “I’ll have to get it somewhere Mrs. Weasley won’t be able to see.”

“You’d actually get a tattoo because I told you to?”

“Yes, if it’ll stop me from being possessed by a demon, then I’ll get it. We wouldn’t want me being taken over, now would we? Imagine would a demon could do with my magic.” He shuddered and she laughed. “But...” He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. “You have to get a tattoo as well.”

“Of what?” He frowned.

“Of the symbols I drew on you,” she shrugged. “They’ll give you some protection from ricocheting spells, not a lot of course but it’s better than nothing. We’d have to go to a magical tattoo parlour so magic can be embedded into the runes, in order to make them more effective.”

“Magical tattoos?” He looked intrigued.

“Yes, magical tattoos are painless, though your immune system tends to weaken for a few weeks, and you may feel nauseous for a few hours, but once it’s finished and healed -which doesn’t take long- magical tattoos move. You should see some of Charlie’s. He’s got this massive dragon on his back and it flaps its wings and flicks its tail when Charlie’s in a bit of a mood.”

He looked amazed. “So if I were to get this tattoo, would it move?”

She frowned. “It wouldn’t move in the way others might, but it may shimmer, like a flag in the wind. So, if I get this tattoo, will you get mine?”

He nodded. “Sammy will get it, too,” he told her.

“So, what’s our next case?” She asked him, once again changing the subject.

“We don’t have one yet, until Sammy either comes across something or Bobby contacts us, we have some downtime to do as we wish. Do you have any cases?”

“The same as you, unless I come across something or I am informed, I have some free time, which I haven’t had in a long time. I’ve spent years tracking Death Eaters and after I closed one case, I had three more waiting for my attention. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I have some time to myself.”

“I know how to use it wisely,” he looked down at her, giving her a sinful smirk.

“Mistress, breakfast is served.”

Dean startled at the sudden intrusion and he jumped off Hermione and away from her, afraid the scary house-elf would maim him and she chuckled.

“Thank you, Mimsy.”

“Mr. Sam be entering the building, would you like for Mimsy to collect the Sir?”

“Yes, please, Mimsy,” Hermione said, and Mimsy bowed and disappeared. “We better get up,” she commented. Dean looked less than impressed at having being interrupted and she laughed at him.

“Breakfast is ready,” she told him, climbing out of bed and walking to her bathroom, more than aware of the fact that Dean’s eyes were glued to her naked figure as she did so.

He caught sight of the scars she had spoken about. In the middle of her back, she had strange cross-shaped scars, and on her left shoulder she had claw marks and on the back of her left leg, she also had claw marks. He was disappointed he hadn’t been able to see her tattoo since her tangle of curls were covering it.

“You should probably shower and dress,” she called from her bathroom.

“And why can’t I join you?” She heard him say and she heard the bed creak as he climbed off it.

“Because I’m hungry and if you join me we’ll be here a while, wipe that smug look off your face,” she said, knowing without actually looking.

She heard him laughing before her door opened and closed.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

Hermione walked to the kitchen table after quickly showering and dressing in a pair of blue skinny jeans, pink converse and a pink t-shirt. She sat at the table, greeting both Sam and Dean as they had beaten her there, though she quickly looked down at her food that appeared when Dean sent her a heated gaze.

“Anything, Sam?” Hermione asked after clearing her throat.

“No, just a car crash victim, a few accidental deaths and a few natural causes,” he replied, putting down the newspaper he had been scanning through.

“Anything online?” Dean asked, as he all but inhaled his breakfast.

“No, my laptop won’t turn on,” he frowned confused.

“That’s my fault,” Hermione interrupted and they both looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Technology will not and does not function around me or magic, anything that runs on electricity or radio waves will short circuit. You’re in a magical building, you’re lucky it didn’t blow up in your face. That’s why you won’t find a TV or a fridge, even lights,” she shrugged and they blinked in surprise.

“But you’ve used both of our cell phones,” Sam said.

“They’re only small technological items and I am able to use them for short periods of time, anything longer than ten minutes and it’ll be fried.” They were surprised by the news.

“So what do children do growing up?”

“We do have our own sports and league and world cups; Quidditch is the most popular, so children play that. They fly on brooms, they play outdoors, they play wizarding chess or exploding snap and other wizarding board games, or they read and make up stories, role play, messy play, they have a lot to keep them busy and since most of them grow up not knowing what a TV is, they’re not missing anything. I was raised in this world and to be honest with you, I never missed technology, well, I did miss lights since they have less of a chance of setting your room on fire.” They stared at her surprised. “Anyway, should we get the tattoos today?”

“Tattoos?” Sam questioned.

“Hermione’s getting the anti-possession tattoo,” Dean shrugged.

“You’ll need it travelling with us,” Sam agreed.

“In return, we’re getting a magical tattoo.”

“A magical tattoo? Of what?”

“The runes I drew on your arms before the battle, it’ll give you more protection, especially when magic is fed into them, and you’re going to need it if you’re helping me with my cases, some of the creatures I deal with are not pleasant,” she shivered as many of them ran through her mind.

“They can’t be as bad as a demon or vampire,” Dean snorted.

“Some of them are.”

“I doubt a furry little creature is worse than vampires.”

“Tell me, Dean, have you ever come across a dementor? No, well, for you they are invisible because you’re a muggle. For me, I see a black mist wearing tattered black robes, with skeletal, rotting hands. And when their hoods are removed, I see no eyes, only a nose and mouth with hundreds of razor-sharp teeth. And do you know what they use these for? No, well, they use them to suck out your soul. They feed on every positive thought and emotion in your life and drain your life force right out of you,” she said sweetly, and they both had gone pale. “Have you ever heard of a boggart, a veela or doxys and grindylows, even a graphorn?” He shook his head, looking chastised and Sam sniggered. “Well, they're all dangerous in their own ways and no matter their size or power, they’re able to inflict serious damage upon you.”

They fell silent; the only sound of Sam’s sniggers filling the room.

Dean kept stealing glances at her as she fumed and ate her breakfast in silence. When she finished her dishes vanished from the table and she stood and retrieved her bag, heading towards the lift.

“Let’s go and get those tattoos,” she said with no emotion to her voice.

Sam smacked Dean upside the head for clearly upsetting her and they followed her out of the building.

The atmosphere in the car was quiet and tense with Hermione only speaking to give directions. By the time they pulled up at the side of the curb, they were in front of a muggle tattoo parlour.

When they climbed out of the car, Hermione took hold of Sam and Dean’s arms and they spluttered when another building suddenly appeared next to it.

“Magical tattoo parlour, there’s a magical university nearby and when you get alcohol into students, it mostly ends with tattoos, particularly magical ones since they’re painless, this particular parlour is hardly ever closed, apart from holidays, otherwise it’s open twenty-four seven,” she explained, before dragging them forward and into the building and she released her hold on them once they cleared the threshold.

The building appeared to be a lot bigger on the inside and it was decorated in calming tones of blue and white, the leather furniture was black and the reception area was light wood furniture. The waiting area was covered with moving posters featuring different tattoos and designs and magazines and drawings littered the tables in the seating area.

The place was crowded, every seat already was taken and some were stood leaning against the walls. When they entered, they all turned to look at the newcomers and Hermione sighed when the room went quiet.

“Hermione Granger! It’s her! It’s really her!” Whispers broke out and before she knew it, she was being surrounded by people waving magazines and parchment in her face, wanting autographs.

Hermione put on the friendly smile she had perfected over the years, the one she reserved for the public. Sam and Dean were surprised by the reaction and could barely hear themselves think and their eyes squeezed shut tightly when camera flashes started going off.

“I know she said she was famous, but I never thought it would be to this extent,” Dean muttered to Sam, as he watched Hermione conversing with the people, signing her name and taking photos with them.

“Alright you creepy fuckers, move it!” A voice called, quieting down the crowd and they parted as a man covered in tattoos, made his way to Hermione.

“Now then Granger, long time no see,” the man said and Dean watched in jealousy as she beamed at him and hugged him tightly. “Come this way, I’ll get you sorted.”

“I can’t do that, all these people were here before me,” she frowned.

The man shrugged, “My shift’s over in ten minutes, there’s nothing they can do about it.” He took her hand and pulled her through the crowd, Dean and Sam following behind her as he led them into a room, filled to the brim of all the regular tattooing essentials.

Dean sized the man up, he was five-foot-ten with blonde wavy hair and dark green eyes, he had tattoos covering his arms and they disappeared under his sleeves, and reappeared on his neck.

“So, Granger, are you going to introduce me to your friends?” He said.

Hermione hopped up onto the tattooing bench and swung her legs back and forth.

“Cal, this is Dean and Sam Winchester. Boys, this is Cal.”

He shook their hands and she noticed the way Cal winced when Dean shook his hand and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“The Hunters?” He asked and she nodded. He chuckled at her, shaking his head. “Should’ve known you’d end up with The Winchesters at some point.” She shrugged in response.

“How do you know Hermione?” Sam asked, also seeing the way Dean was glaring at him.

“I used to work for her, she was my boss,” he grinned at Hermione. “I transferred from The American Ministry over to The British Ministry so I could train under her. I worked with her for three years before moving back here.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I’ve got a wife and kid at home, she was always worried about my safety and it wasn’t safe for the baby during her pregnancy, so I moved back here. Once my son was born, I decided I wanted to leave the dangerous lifestyle behind and find something more stable, turns out, I like it here, been working here since. Anyway, what can I help you with?”

“I need an anti-possession symbol tattooed onto me to prevent myself from being possessed by demons,” she shrugged.

“And them?” He nodded to the brothers.

“I need them to get some Ancient Runes tattooed onto them, in order to give them a little more protection from the dangers of magic.”

“And besides the regular magical ink, you want magic infused into each rune?”

“Yes, I do, for more protection.”

“Alright, shall we start with you?” She nodded. “What’s this symbol look like?”

In response Dean removed his leather jacket and pulled his t-shirt over his head, showing his own anti-possession tattoo. He felt smug when Hermione’s eyes roamed his body before her eyes snapped away from him to stare at the wall and he scowled.

“It looks like that,” she said.

Cal nodded. “Okay, where do you it?” he said, pulling on gloves and setting up the equipment, readying the ink and needle, before dragging a stool over to the bench.

“Beside my right hip, I suppose, Mrs. Weasley won’t be able to see it that way,” she shrugged.

“It’s best that way, I saw the way she looked at me when we met,” he chuckled.

Hermione laid down and got herself comfortable, before pulling up her t-shirt and unbuttoning her jeans. She saw Dean glare at Sam and he sighed and turned his back to her.

She pointedly kept her eyes on the ceiling above her so she couldn’t catch Dean’s gaze, and the tattoo was completed within less than half an hour. After casting a healing spell and applying some cream to the area, Hermione hopped off the bench and buttoned her jeans, before stepping back and walking over to lean back against the wall.

“Alright, who's next?” Cal asked.

Dean made his way over to the bench and sat down, not bothering to put his t-shirt back on since he had decided to get the tattoo opposite his anti-possession tattoo, below his collar bone.

“What runes are we using?”

“Protection, luck, strength, light, energy, magic and success,” she listed off. Cal looked at her blankly and she snorted, before pulling out a scrap of parchment with drawings of the runes on.

Cal set to work with the runes and she saw the look of surprise cross Dean’s face, even if Hermione had said it was painless, he was still expecting to feel something, which he didn’t. The runes were completed within twenty minutes and Cal cast a healing charm and applied the cream before sitting back.

“Give it a couple of days to completely heal and then you can infuse magic into the ink, I made sure to use ink that will absorb and detain your magic.”

“Thanks, Cal,” Hermione nodded and she stepped aside as Dean pulled his shirt back on and moved to stand beside her, whilst Sam made his way to the bench, pulling his sleeve up as he went so he could get the runes on his left forearm.

She could feel Dean’s eyes staring at her and she pointedly ignored him. It was five minutes later when he sighed and grumbled under his breath.

“Can we talk?” He said quietly, moving closer to her.

“But we are talking,” she said emotionlessly.

He growled in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. “Please, can we talk?” He asked, almost desperately. He couldn't explain it but her being angry with him hurt.

Her eyes flittered up to his and she turned and walked out of the room, he followed her and she stopped in the corridor, with several more doors leading to other rooms, though it was quiet and empty.

“What is it, Dean?” She asked, her arms crossed and looking as though she was ready for an argument.

“I’m sorry.”

“Excuse me?” She questioned in surprise. She had not been expecting that.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” he confessed, his eyes holding her gaze and all but begging her to believe him and to forgive him. “I know nothing about your world or the creatures you deal with and I shouldn’t have spoken the way I did. Until I’ve seen these creatures, I have no right to comment on them, nor to make fun of you or belittle your ability to deal with them. If you say these creatures are dangerous, then I believe you.”

“Do you really mean that or are you just saying it because you think it’s what I want to hear?” Her expression was guarded.

“I mean it,” he promised.

“Dean,” she sighed, unfolding her arms and pushing some hair out of her face. “My world is dangerous. It’s my responsibility to protect those that are unable to protect themselves, and sometimes that means protecting them from themselves. It’s my job to minimise the risk of casualties and to put others’ lives before my own every time.” That last comment didn’t sit well with him; it made something within him curl in dread. “It’s true that some creatures I deal with aren’t dangerous, some may just bite or scratch, but others are incredibly dangerous it takes no effort at all to kill you. Basilisks kill by simply looking into your eyes, the mandrake plant can kill with its high pitched shriek, dementors suck out your soul by kissing you, even unicorns, the purest creature to exist can kill you with its horn. There are hundreds, maybe even thousands of creatures out there, and I have to know how to defend and protect against each one of them, and every day new species are being discovered, species we didn’t even know existed. You will see some amazing things when helping me with my cases, but you’ll also see some truly horrendous things, things you never thought possible.”

He nodded with his gaze still locked on hers, trying to show that he understood. “I won’t speak so thoughtlessly again,” he promised her, she scrutinized him for a moment and then she nodded in acceptance of his apology.

A huge weight was lifted off his shoulders and his heart stopped constricting and before she saw it coming, he had pulled her to him and wrapped her up in a tight hug, his nose buried in her hair and he placed a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m glad we were able to sort this out, I didn’t want it to ruin the rest of the day, not after last night and this morning,” he murmured, his head now buried against her neck.

“You think highly of yourself,” she snorted.

“Well, I am the only man to make you purr,” he practically purred himself.

Hermione rolled her eyes and she slapped at his arm before pulling away and walking back into the room, seeing that Cal was just finishing up with applying cream to Sam’s new tattoo.

“All done?” She asked with a smile.

“All done,” Cal confirmed. “I would ask if you needed any healing cream, but knowing you, you already have some.”

“I do,” she nodded.

“Just remember to wait a couple of days before infusing your magic into the runes, the ink will have had time to set and heal and it’ll better absorb any magic you infuse into it.”

“I will, thank you, Cal.” She dug into her beaded bag and pulled out a pouch of galleons, handing them over to him.

He opened the pouch and peered inside, spluttering in surprise. “Boss, there’s far too much here,” he said, trying to hand it back to her but she stepped back from him.

“No, there isn’t,” she disagreed. “As you said, your shift was over an hour and a half ago, and you have a three-year-old at home and a lovely wife that you should spoil rotten. When was the last time you spent the day together? With the amount I’ve given you, you can afford to take a few days off from work without having to worry about losing any pay,” she shrugged.

She quickly hugged him and dragged Dean and Sam out of the room and out of the building before he could protest further, she received looks from several of the customers as she left out the door.

“What now?” Sam asked.

“Back to my apartment, I’m hungry and I promised Mimsy I would speak to the other house-elves, she’s having trouble with them refusing orders.”

“I thought they weren’t slaves,” Dean commented.

“My house-elves aren’t slaves,” she promised. “But there is a hierarchy involved within a household or business. Mimsy is the oldest and most experienced house-elf and for lack of a better term, she’s the boss. The other house-elves are fairly young and since I rescued them, they haven’t really had time to learn how to follow orders and requests from anyone but myself, seeing as I’m their Mistress and they are bound to me,” she said and they raised their eyebrows at her. “I was forced to bind them to me in order to keep them alive, a house-elf without a Master or Mistress is a house-elf that will suffer and die. They’re bound to me but I don’t treat them as my property. If they so wished -which they don’t- all they have to do is ask that I release them from the bond and I will free them,” she shrugged and then climbed into the back of the car.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

It was later that night when Hermione was half asleep and snuggled under the covers of her bed. They had returned to her apartment and Hermione spoke with the house-elves, appearing half an hour later and with a scowl on her face, the reason being the moment she stepped into the room, the kitchen table filled with food for lunch. The brothers had laughed at her.

Afterwards, Hermione had retrieved some books from her library on magical creatures and gave one each to the brothers, telling them to read up on every creature it mentioned as they were likely to cross paths with most of them.

Sam had all but ripped the book from her hand and was already reading the first page by the time she had finished speaking, Dean was calmer and simply took the book from her, his eyes scanning the words before him. Hermione took a seat and decided to catch up on some paperwork whilst she had the time. They had taken a break a couple of hours later and Hermione gave the brothers a tour of the building, taking them to the hidden rooms she knew about and introducing them to any of the children they ran into, before returning for dinner, which was waiting for them, and much to Dean’s utter delight, there was not one, but two pies waiting for him.

They continued with reading until Hermione grew tired and she retreated to her bedroom, readying for bed and slipping under the covers. She was dozing off and on the verge of sleep when there was a knock on the door.

Somehow she knew it was Dean behind her door, she could feel it, and being too comfortable and not wanting to move, she found her wand and flicked it towards the door and it opened, revealing Dean.

He arched his brow at the door before walking into the room and closing the door behind him, walking over to the bed and slipping in behind her. His arms snaked around her and pulled her back against him. His hand trailed up the skin of her leg, stopping where her pale pink satin nightgown laid against her mid-thigh, before he slipped it under her nightgown and splayed it against her stomach, his fingers trailing lightly over her new tattoo before moving over to her scar.

She could tell he had forgone anything but his boxers. He had her held so tightly against him the heat of his skin was radiating off him and onto her. She could feel his bare skin pressed against her, his legs somehow finding themselves being entangled with hers and his head pressed into the crook of her neck.

“Comfortable?” She mumbled.

“Hmm,” he hummed in response. He was so close to her, she could practically feel his eyelashes brush against the skin of her shoulder.

She felt his hand move lower and brush the lace waistband of her underwear.

“No sex tonight, I’m tired,” she muttered.

“Okay,” he mumbled against her skin and she sighed when he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, his tongue darting out to trace her phoenix tattoo, of which he had finally discovered. She shivered and then scowled.

“Dean, I mean it, if you carry on you can get out of my bed and sleep elsewhere,” she warned him.

“Fine,” he grumbled childishly and she could hear the pout in his voice.

“Good, now go to sleep, you never know when either of us will get a call, I can receive one at any hour, day or night and I need to be rested and prepared.”

“I’ll go to sleep,” he promised, though his hand still traced the waistband of her underwear, and before she knew it, Dean had fallen asleep and she followed him into the land of slumber.

~000~~000~000~

Hermione awoke the next morning to the feel of a bulge pressed against her bottom. She managed to turn onto her back in the tight grip Dean had on her, and she stretched and groaned when her back seemed to click before she climbed out of bed and quickly made her way to her bathroom. After showering and dressing for the day she exited her bathroom it was to see that Dean was still asleep, though now he clutched at her pillow.

She shook her head and left her room, intent on making breakfast, though before she could, Mimsy appeared and scolded Hermione, before disappearing to prepare breakfast for her. Sam appeared in the kitchen not long after, followed by Dean and they saw her sitting at the table with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” Sam asked as they both took seats at the table.

“Mimsy caught me trying to cook breakfast and she called me a ‘Bad Mistress’ for not listening to her in regards to my cooking in my own bloody apartment.”

They both snorted at her and her scowl deepened.

Breakfast was on the table barely ten minutes later and there was enough for everyone, meaning Mimsy must’ve known the brothers were up, since the food on the table included some of the food they’d had asked for the day before.

They were halfway through eating when an owl suddenly swooped into the apartment through an open window and left without a second look, dropping a letter in front of Hermione.

She picked it up and looked at the brothers when she saw The Ministry seal and they arched their eyebrows at her. She broke the seal and her eyes scanned the words before she set down the letter and the file that had been included and shrunken down and looked at them both.

“Well, boys, it seems respite is over.”

“You have a case?” Sam asked intrigued.

“Yes, four victims, all male and with different physical appearances, no other connections that I am aware of yet. The creature responsible is not yet known, though there have been a few muggle witnesses who are being detained before being given a psych evaluation. We’ll have to get there before it happens, I need to know what they saw in order to better determine the one responsible.”

“How did the victims die?” Dean asked her with a thoughtful look on his face.

“They were covered in claw marks and torn to pieces, this could be a number of things and we need to narrow it down. The book I gave you yesterday is one of thousands, and each book may contradict what another says, or may not even include a creature or being. Once we are able to identify the one responsible, you may not even know what it is.”

“Where are we headed?”

“Connecticut, someplace called Hartford,” she shrugged.

“That’s about two hours from here,” Sam frowned in thought.

“Alright then, you take the lead on this one, Glinda.”

“You really do need to come up with something better,” Hermione rolled her eyes and he shrugged in reply. “Finish breakfast and then grab what you need to, we leave in thirty minutes.”

~000~000~000~

“Do you want to find a motel?” Dean asked her as they reached their destination of Hartford, which had taken slightly over two hours with traffic.

“I suppose so, I don’t know how long it’ll take to solve the case, it could take hours, it could take days, depending on what the witnesses have to say. I should probably see the bodies, too, so I can rule out any culprits based on strength or claw size. If we just put down for one night and we end up staying longer, we either pay for longer or find another motel,” she shrugged.

They pulled into the first motel they seen and Dean disappeared to the reception counter whilst Hermione and Sam got their belongings from the car.

Dean returned and threw the room key to Sam. “Room 14,” he spoke.

“Was there only one room available?” Sam asked with an arched eyebrow; every time Dean went to the reception area there was always one room available.

“Yes, they’re supposedly always busy since there’s a museum for some famous author nearby,” he shrugged.

Sam turned and headed for the room with Dean and Hermione following behind him at a distance.

“Was there really only one room available?” She asked him, knowing that Sam wouldn’t hear.

“Yes,” he lied, but neither she nor Sam needed to know that.

They entered the room to see it was minimalistic. It had light walls and a dark carpet, with two single beds and a bedside table with a lamp sat atop, separating them. There was a small rounded table with two chairs and a slightly bigger table against the back wall that sat the TV. Rather than there being a chest of drawers, there was a small closet and a bathroom. Hermione cleaned and fumigated the room for good measure, though it was by far the cleanest of the motels they had stayed at.

“So, what’s first?” Sam asked, plopping himself down onto the bed closest to the bathroom.

“We’ll start with the bodies, before moving onto the witnesses. Can one of you do some background research on our victims, please?” She asked them.

Dean and Sam barely shared a look before Sam spoke, “I’ll do it.” Dean agreed with him, research was Sam’s forte, not his.

“Thanks,” she said, before pulling out the file from her pocket and resizing it. “In the file, you should find the victims names and addresses, the rest is up to you to find, if you can find a possible motive for the killing that would be tremendously helpful.”

“On it,” he said, before leaving the motel and taking Dean’s car to find the latest newspapers, when he returned he would turn to his laptop for help.

“What’s our excuse?” Dean asked her.

“FBI, I know they have the Behavioural Analysis Unit and this is the type of case they would work, due to its violent nature, it’ll be a good cover for us.”

He nodded in agreement. “I still have the rental suit we got a while back.”

She rose an eyebrow but didn’t answer him, instead, she found her own suit and pulled it out from her beaded bag and proceeded to head into the bathroom.

“Why are you going to change in there?” He asked her.

She turned back to look at him. “Can you control yourself?”

“Can you?” He shot back.

“Probably not,” she admitted and he smirked as the door closed behind her.

~000~000~000~

“Well, that was disgusting,” Dean commented as they left the morgue, referring to the bodies of the victims they had seen, and even Hermione had to admit that it hadn’t been pleasant.

“I did warn you,” she shrugged.

“Have you narrowed it down?”

“Yes, it isn’t a werewolf since there hasn’t been a full moon and the time of death was three days ago. It isn’t a hippogriff since the claw markings were too small and they don’t generally tear things apart. It’s definitely not a dragon, although they do have the strength and claws to cause that damage, they tend to flay their food before eating it,” she spoke with a thoughtful frown on her face.

“Do you have any idea what it is?”

“I have my suspicions; we’ll speak to the witnesses first and see if they can shed some light on the situation.”

~000~000~000~

“She was beautiful, so beautiful,” the middle-aged man whispered, rocking back and forth in the corner of his cell. Hermione and Dean stood before him with all the appropriate privacy charms surrounding them.

“Long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, she was so pale that she all but shimmered in the moonlight. She was not of this world; no one is that beautiful, it’s impossible.”

Dean snorted and Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

“Mr. Collins,” Hermione said softly, taking a step forward and kneeling down in front of him. “Can you tell me what you saw, I promise, I am not like the others, I will believe anything you wish to share.”

His unfocused eyes flew up to hers, fearful blue meeting soft brown. “She wore strange clothing,” his voice was quiet and shook slightly. “A type of dress you would see centuries ago and she had on what looked to be graduation robes over the top.” His eyes once more looked onto hers as they had fallen downcast when he spoke.

“It’s alright, is there anything else you are able to tell me?” She asked him gently.

“I saw her, I saw her tear those men apart, all four of them without even breaking a sweat. I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and then she changed. She... She...” He started crying.

“What did she do?” She coaxed.

“She grew claws, and feathered wings, and a large beak, her eyes turned black and she made a loud screeching sound, something you’d expect to hear from a pterodactyl. She clawed at them, ripped them to shreds, and then tore them apart, two of them were still alive.” His eyes begged her to believe him. “She saw me, her black eyes turned on me and when I thought I’d be next, she flew off, leaving behind the bodies and the blood.”

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

“I do,” she promised him and when she stood up, he came out of the corner and kneeled in front of her, gripping her tightly around the waist and clinging to her as his cries were muffled by her clothing.

Dean looked less than impressed that he was touching her. He handed her the styrofoam cup of coffee she gestured to, whilst pulling back from the man and handing it to him.

“Drink this, it’ll make you feel better,” she instructed.

He reluctantly took it from her and took a large gulp, within seconds he crumbled to the ground, fast asleep. She levitated him onto the thin mattress of the cell and then crouched down beside him, obliviating his memories and changing a few, so that he would forget everything he saw. She then stood and vanished the spilt coffee from the floor and they both left the cell, heading to the detective in charge of the investigation.

The detective in question was an average looking man. He was taller than Hermione but shorter than Dean, making him around five-foot-ten. He was obviously not young, his face showing some wrinkles, his black hair beginning to bald. He had thin lips and chubby cheeks, and a rounded belly which wasn’t hidden by his grey suit.

“I told you he was nuts,” the balding detective said cruelly as he lounged against his chair, propping his feet up on his desk, whilst deliberately looking Hermione up and down with his blue eyes. She could feel the heat of Dean’s glare on the detective they hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, and she felt him stiffen beside her.

“He’s not nuts,” she said coldly and loud enough that everyone sat at desks nearby could hear, and the room went quiet, all except for ringing phones which no one answered.

“If you were more observant you would have realised that Mr. Collins is suffering from sleep deprivation. It is my belief that he once served in the US Armed Forces, and as a result, he is likely suffering from PTSD, and insomnia is a common consequence which affects the mind in many different ways, hallucinations being one of them. He is a war veteran and you should be treating him with more respect, it’s because of people like him that you are able to sit here, thinking that you are better than everyone else. You should stop being such a judgemental prick and do your job, which I believe is supposed to require the qualities of empathy and observation, which I can see you do not have. I suggest you allow Mr. Collins a chance to sleep and once he wakes, help him find the help he needs.”

Dean was shaking in silent laughter and she knew as he was stood so close to her she could feel it.

“As for Mr. Murphy, he’s not nuts either, just a teenage boy that drank too much at a party, and likely partook in the smoking of some Marijuana. You could arrest him for underage drinking and smoking an illegal substance, but let’s be honest, it’s his first offence and he’s a teenager, celebrating his final year at school. I think the hangover he went through is more than enough punishment.” She then turned and made her way towards the exit with Dean following behind her.

“I can have your badge for this,” the nameless detective stood, glaring at her.

She turned to face him with a bored look on her face. “You could try, but I hate to point out the fact that my current employer has a far larger budget than you, and we work high profile cases. Without sounding too arrogant, I am the best at what I do, for that reason I have a very high-security clearance.”

If you read between the lines you would see her meaning of her words, that she was better than him, and the government would choose her over him if it came down to it. She knew she was being bitchy and mean, but at this point, she didn’t care, she didn’t like the man, she got a bad feeling from him. And, she was hungry; she was always a bitch when she was hungry.

“As for this case, you are no longer working it, I am taking over.”

“You are not!” He bellowed, storming over to her menacingly.

She remained to look bored and unthreatened, but before he could get any closer, Dean’s hand was pressed against the detective’s chest, not allowing him to any closer to Hermione.

“Remove your hand or I will arrest you for assault,” he sneered.

Dean looked for too amused with the situation he was currently in.

“As Agent Burlen said, we are of a higher-security clearance than you, how do you expect to arrest us? And if you are to pull that card, I could just as easily arrest you for threatening behaviour towards a federal government’s employee.” Dean pulled his hand back and slipped both of them into his pockets.

“You have had this case for what? Three days?” Hermione questioned. “And you have done nothing but arrest and detain a war veteran and a drunken teenager, I have been here all of an hour, if that, and I have already made far more progress than you.”

“What have you learned?” He demanded to know.

“I’m afraid that is classified,” she smiled sweetly, “You are no longer working this case and we have taken over, making it a high-security case. If I find that you attempt to integrate yourself into this case, I will have charges brought up against you.”

Her eyes scanned the almost silent room, and she was surprised to see that none of the people present looked outraged at her behaviour or at her telling off of one of their colleagues, in fact, they looked rather pleased and amused. Well then, that answered her question. Was this man liked? No.

She turned and walked away with Dean by her side. “Do as I suggest with Mr. Collins and Mr. Murphy, I do not wish to return here and converse with you again, I will not be happy if I am forced to do so,” were her final words as she stepped out of the police station and climbed into the Impala.

“What?” She asked, noticing the way Dean’s gaze was locked on her, his eyes full of heat and lust and amusement and pride. “Seriously, what is it?”

His response was to bury his hands in her hair and around the back of her neck and to pull her forward, meeting his lips as his tongue delved into her mouth. She gave a sound of surprise, followed by a soft little moan when he nibbled at her bottom lip. Her own hands were gripping the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him to her and keeping him close.

When their lungs burned for the need of oxygen Dean’s mouth made a path across her cheek and down her neck, and when he noticed that the possessive marks he had left were no more -likely her doing- he proceeded to rectify that situation.

“We can’t, not here,” she protested weakly, her breathing heavy and trying to push him back from her. “If we’re caught they can arrest us for indecent behaviour in a public place, a bloody police station at that.”

“I don’t care,” he muttered against her neck, his mouth moving lower to where her collar bone was on show.

“Well I do, and we’re in the middle of a case, Sam’s waiting for us back at the motel and I want to know what he’s learned.” She pulled back from him and he gave a ridiculous pout which she snorted at. “Now, either drive or you’re walking back to the motel.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

“Hey, how’d it go?” Sam asked as they entered the motel room, Hermione immediately kicking her heels off her aching feet and collapsing onto the bed.

“We saw the bodies, in the words of Dean, it was disgusting. We spoke to the witnesses and I obliviated them,” she shrugged.

“She also handed the detective on the case his balls on a silver platter,” Dean said, leaning against the door.

“You did?” Sam asked intrigued.

“He was a prick,” she defended her actions and Dean snorted.

“What you told him, was it true?” Dean asked curiously.

“About Collins and Murphy?” He nodded. “Yes, I was telling the truth. When I wiped their memories I went into their minds to make sure I hadn’t missed anything and I saw flashes of their past, Collins is a war veteran and Murphy had been drinking at a party,” she shrugged. “Anyway, they both gave the same recount of the incident. What did you learn, Sam, is there anything connecting the victims?”

“There is actually, the addresses you gave me were their current addresses, but I found they had moved here four months ago and they had all changed their names. That got me curious so I did some digging. It turns out the four victims are originally from Alabama.”

“Long way to move, and changing their identities, that’s suspicious,” Dean frowned.

“I know, the victims all knew each other, they not only attended the same high school but the same college, too.”

“Interesting,” Hermione mused. “So why did they move?”

“It took some digging but I found they were all involved in a car crash. The four had been drink-driving and they killed a man crossing the road.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing, it was ruled as a hit and run. All that was found was the car that had been dumped in a river.”

“So how do you know it was them and they were drunk?”

“Empty beer bottles littered the floor and crates were found in the trunk of the car, and evidence indicates there were four people in the car. I don’t know it’s them for sure, but the timeline fits. I made some calls to their relatives and they all say they left in a hurry, without even saying goodbye, and due to the viciousness of the crime, I’d go out on a limb and say it was a revenge killing,” Sam shrugged.

Hermione sat up and sighed, running her hand over her face. “I believe that you’re right, this is a revenge killing and I think you’ve just confirmed my suspicions on the one responsible.”

“So what are we dealing with?” Dean asked her.

“A heartbroken veela,” Hermione said with a pained tone to her voice.

“A what?” They both asked confused, since neither of them had gotten that far in the book she’d given. Sam was close to the halfway mark, whereas Dean was only a few chapters in since he could never sit and concentrate for too long.

“Veela are semi-human magical beings. They are incredibly beautiful women that attract the opposite sex, every man -and sometimes women- will be drawn to them unless they are immune for some reason, such as being a magical creature themselves. Veela have white-blonde hair and although their eye colour can vary, it’s mostly bright blue, and they have skin that appears to shine bright like the moon. Veela are quick to anger and when they are, they turn into harpy like beings, growing a sharp beak, talons and wings will sprout from their shoulders, sometimes scaly, sometimes feathery. They also have the ability to throw fireballs from their palms and they are incredibly strong.”

“What does that have to do with our victims?” Sam asked.

“There’s only one thing that will cause a veela to react that way, to be so vicious and merciless.”

“Which is?” Dean arched his eyebrow.

“Veela have life mates. Once a veela has come into her heritage, usually around the age of seventeen, she has exactly one year to find her life mate. They will experience unimaginable pain until they do so, and if they don’t they die. If the veela does find her lifemate and he rejects her, she will literally die of a broken heart. The veela’s mate is her life. He is the reason she exists, he is her purpose. She will love him above all else, even her own family, unless they have children and she will be just as fiercely protective. A veela cannot control themselves if their life mate is injured or threatened, and when that happens she will change her appearance and protect him at all costs, even at the risk of her own life. Once a veela is bound to her lifemate, that’s it, she belongs to him, just as he belongs to her. They will share a soul; they can share thoughts and feel each other’s emotions. They are literally two people sharing one heart and one soul. If another unmated woman were to go near her lifemate, she would perceive them as a threat and kill them. Veela are a protected species and so if they kill to protect their life mate, they will not be charged, the law is on their side.”

“So why would she do this? Kill these four men?”

“The hit and run victim, he was likely her lifemate, and when he died her whole world came crashing down. She would feel as though her heart had been ripped out, her soul cracking into a thousand pieces. She’s in unimaginable pain right now, and now that she’s gotten her revenge on those that killed her lifemate, she’ll have retreated into the shadows.”

“How do you know so much about this? You can’t have learned it all from books,” Sam asked.

“My,” she frowned, “Let’s just call her my sister-in-law, Fleur, she’s married to Bill and she’s a quarter veela, her own children are an eighth veela. Fleur is too far down the line to possess any of the traditional veela traits, except for her unnatural beauty. Fleur has insider knowledge on Veelas. Her grandmother had a life mate and when he died of natural causes, it wasn’t long until she followed, but she had to watch her grandmother suffer. What I haven’t learned from books, I’ve learned from her, other veelas who I’ve worked with or I’ve learned through experience,” she shrugged. “The only problem I can see with this though is that her lifemate was in the Muggle World, and as far as I’m aware, no veela has ever been mated with a muggle due to genetics and the need to carry on a line of magic. So that means he was either a Squib but with some magic potential that was very low, or he was a wizard that had wandered out of the Wizarding World and likely gotten lost, wrong place wrong time scenario.”

“So how do we find her?” Dean asked, standing up away from the door.

“She won’t be far, she’ll have gone somewhere she can be alone and grieve, somewhere she’d feel at home. Veela enjoy being in and around nature, so maybe a park.”

“And what will you do when you find her?”

“What has to be done,” she replied, though she didn’t sound happy about it.

~000~000~000~

They had been driving around for the last two hours, checking every park they came across and after the sixth one, Hermione was grumpy, tired and hungry. Not a good combination for anyone in her vicinity.

“Last one and then we’ll head back for some dinner and start fresh in the morning,” Dean spoke and Hermione found herself nodding in agreement.

They stepped out of the car and walked through the park, which was fairly quiet given it was mid-evening and it would soon be getting dark. They looked around for ten minutes when Hermione sighed, she was just about to call it a day when she heard a wailing sound, it was truly heartbreaking, and that’s when Hermione knew they were in the right place.

“What the hell is that?” Dean asked, his hands covering his ears, and his eyes squeezed shut, just as Sam had done the same.

“A veela dying of a broken heart,” she responded.

“It sounds like she’s being tortured,” Sam commented.

“She is,” Hermione said sadly, and then she strode forward, following the sounds of the wailing into the trees.

Barely five minutes later they came across a woman sitting slumped over on the ground. Her clothing and robes dirty and covered in blood, her skin was a sickly grey colour, her hair looked dull and lifeless with blood covering some strands and leaves and twigs caught in it. Her bright blue eyes looked up and when they saw her face, her soft and delicate features were tear-stained.

She saw Sam’s eyes glaze over and he started walking forward, she looked to see that Dean was stood there, not seemingly affected by the veela and he was watching his brother confused.

“Please don’t do that,” Hermione said softly and the veela snapped her gaze to her before Sam suddenly stopped walking and he shook his head, coming out of his daze.

“What just happened?” He asked confused, walking back over to them.

“You were affected by the veela charm,” she said, her eyes looking at Dean curiously.

“He is a mated man,” the veela spoke.

“Excuse me?” Hermione said, her attention back on her. “He’s a muggle.”

“He is a mated man,” she repeated, her tears still falling down her face and her voice cracked.

“Let’s forget about them, it’s just you and me. What’s your name?”

“Lyra,” she responded.

“It’s nice to meet you Lyra, I’m...”

“Hermione Granger, I know, I was hoping you would be assigned.”

Hermione’s eyes widened slightly. “You killed those men because you hoped you would get to meet me?”

“No, I killed those men because they killed my Thomas, they left him to die. I knew that if you were given the case you would help me. It hurts, it hurts so much,” she started sobbing and Hermione walked over to her and fell to her knees beside the veela, who latched onto her and gripped her tightly. Hermione soothed the heartbroken veela with whispers and the brothers shifted on their feet uncomfortably.

“I want to be with him, I don’t want to suffer anymore, please make it stop,” she begged.

“I will and you will be reunited with your love once again in the afterlife, I’m sure he’ll be waiting for you.” Hermione pulled back from the woman long enough to dig into her beaded bag and pull out a vial of what looked to be black goo that bubbled and moved. “Is there anyone you wish for me to contact?”

“There was only Thomas,” the veela whispered and she took the vial from Hermione, before downing it and then laying down on the ground, her head resting against Hermione’s thighs and she soothingly stroked her hair.

“Everything will be alright now, I promise,” Hermione said softly.

“Thank you,” the veela whispered and the brothers watched as she closed her eyes and she stopped breathing within minutes of taking the potion Hermione had given her.

Hermione checked for a pulse. “She’s dead,” she sighed.

“What was that?” Sam asked her.

“A mercy killing,” she replied. “She would’ve continued to suffer from a broken heart for at least another two months before she died. I gave her a poison that took her life within minutes, and now, she’s with her lifemate and she’s happy.”

She moved away from the body and she stood up, pointing her wand and with a whispered word, she had the body set ablaze. They all stood and watched as the body was turned into ash and given it was a magically induced fire, the process was a lot shorter than usual. Afterwards, Hermione put out the flames and watched as the ashes were blown away in the breeze.

“That’s it, boys, the case is over,” she said tiredly and she turned and walked back to the Impala.

~000~000~000~

After stopping for dinner, Dean and Sam made a decision to head back to the motel, collect their belongings and to drive back to Cambridge, seeing as it was only two hours away. They would rather the drive and stay at Hermione’s much nicer apartment than spend the night in the motel if they didn’t have to.

During the drive Hermione was quiet as she sat in the back seat, filling out her report so it could be sent off in the morning. By the time she had finished, it was close to ten o’clock and they pulled up outside the apartment complex which came into view the minute they stepped out of the car.

Wordlessly they followed Hermione inside and to the lift, where they met no one on their journey to the twentieth floor. Mimsy appeared as they stepped out, Hermione greeted the house-elf that acted as though she had been gone months, rather than a day, and then she left the brothers to their own devices as she headed to her room, showered and then crawled into bed.

She didn’t know how long she had been laid in bed trying to sleep, but a knock at the door drew her attention. She flicked her wand to open it and Dean walked in, closing the door behind him.

He slipped into bed behind her, got himself comfortable and pulled her against him. Once again she was aware he had forgone all clothing but his underwear.

“You okay?” He asked her.

“I will be, I just hate these types of cases,” she replied, and she turned in his arms so she could face him. “When I kill someone in self-defence, it’s easier for me to deal with because I know it was either me or them, and if I was beaten, they would likely continue with what they had been doing. But cases like this, cases where it’s a mercy killing, it’s harder for me to deal with. I know that she would’ve died a slow and painful death, and I know I did the right thing in staying with her and giving her a quick death, but it still doesn’t sit well with me. What she did, she did out of anger and grief and I know it was wrong, but it’s the law. It’s justified what she did and nothing would’ve stopped her. She _needed_ to avenge her life mate’s death.” She fell silent, her gaze on his anti-possession tattoo as her finger trailed over the lines and ink.

“You’re thinking about something,” he commented, seeing the crease in her forehead. “What is it?”

“It’s just something she said, it’s got me confused and I don’t like the feeling.”

“Is it about the mated thing?”

She nodded. “Sam was affected by her pheromones, he was drawn to her; you saw the dazed look on his face. He wasn’t in control of himself. Yet you weren’t affected. She said that you were already mated.”

“Maybe she knew about us?” Dean shrugged, his hand reaching up to snag a loose curl and tugging it gently.

“Maybe, veela are highly sexual beings, so it’s possible, it’s just her phrasing that I don’t like.”

“Why?” He asked with an arch of his eyebrow.

“Magical creatures such as veela, werewolves, sirens and vampires, they can all have life mates, though it tends to be rare for anyone but a veela to find theirs. When they are bound and mated, it’s the same as I described this afternoon, they will share one soul. They belong to each other. They will protect each other and love each other even in the afterlife. Witches and wizards, we’re humans, albeit magical humans. The magic in us allows for us to also have a life mate, depending on your magical ability and magical core. The more powerful you are, the more you’re likely to need someone to ground you and your magic so that you don’t lose control. When a witch or wizard is fated, they will never be able to find happiness with anyone but that one person and they will be in-tune with each other. Their magic will bind them together, so they share one power source. It’s very rare that this happens though; I think it’s eight a year in the entire Wizarding World, out of thousands of us -millions even- there’s only eight fated wizarding folk a year. Harry is an immensely powerful wizard, one of the most powerful in the world and I wasn’t surprised when he and Ginny married as soon as she graduated Hogwarts, they would’ve married sooner but Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t allow it unless Ginny returned to school after the war to finish her education. I have never seen two people more suited to each other, and although there is no magical bond between them, I would say they could’ve easily been a fated couple, except they are not bound by soul or magic.”

“So you’re saying we’re fated?” He spoke, his eyes sceptical and his tone of voice emotionless.

“No, as far as I’m aware in the history of magic, never has a witch or wizard and a muggle been fated.”

“So why are you so worried?”

“I’m not worried per se, I’m just trying to remain cautious.”

“About?”

“Us, it’s not normal, I know it and you have just as much experience with the supernatural as I do, which means you know it, too. This thing between us, it’s strange. The pull I feel towards you, I thought it would disappear or lessen at the very least, once we slept together.”

“And it hasn’t?” He asked curiously.

“No, it hasn’t, if anything it’s getting stronger. The more time we spend around each other, the stronger the pull is becoming,” she sighed tiredly. “If it is magically induced, I don’t know what it is, why it’s happening or how to stop it.”

“So don’t, let’s just see where it takes us,” he shrugged.

“I don’t really have a choice, every time I think of leaving you and Sam and going our separate ways, I feel physically ill,” she admitted.

He frowned. “Yesterday when I upset you and you wouldn’t talk to me, it hurt to see that I had hurt you. I didn’t want to argue with you and I didn’t like the idea that you might possibly leave because of what I said, it filled me with worry, just as it does when I think of you getting hurt or putting yourself in danger,” he confessed, and she was surprised by it.

“I saw you at the night club, you might not have thought I noticed, but I did, I could practically feel your glare trying to burn those men alive, and today at the police station, I could feel the glare you were sending the witnesses and the detective and I wasn’t even looking at you.” She would’ve thought he’d look embarrassed or at the very least, contrite, but he didn’t. “Have you always been this possessive?” She asked.

“No, I’m not a possessive man, never have been, especially with women, but for some reason, I can’t control it with you. I’m not attracted to other women either.” She was surprised by that and he chuckled at her, seeing it written as clear as day across her face. “I look at someone and whereas before I would’ve charmed them out of their pants, now all I do is look at them and I can see they’re pretty, but I have no interest in them. It feels almost disrespectful towards you,” he frowned slightly, her finger reached up to smooth out the crease.

“I’m not a possessive person either, but the thought of you with another woman, it...” She trailed off, now frowning. He chuckled and moved his hand from her curl, to smooth out the crease in her forehead like she’d done to him. “I can’t exactly explain it. It doesn’t sit well with me, it not only makes me feel physically sick, but it actually hurts. We’re strange, aren’t we?”

He laughed at her. “We wouldn’t last in the field if we weren’t.”

She sighed. “What should we do?”

He shrugged. “Just continue as we are and we’ll see where things go. No labels, no pressure, no judgement.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 11

“Morning,” a sleepy voice mumbled into her ear.

She hummed in response. “What time is it?”

“No idea.”

Hermione unwound Dean’s arms from around her and then rolled onto her back, stretching her arms above her head and groaning when her joints clicked.

“Mimsy,” Hermione called softly, sitting up and pushing her hair out of her face and Dean followed her.

“What can Mimsy do for Mistress?” She asked after appearing in the room, bowing before them.

“Can you please tell me the time?”

“Yes, Mistress, its be 08:38.”

“Thank you, is Sam up yet?”

“Yes, Mistress he bes eating breakfast in the kitchen. Mimsy caught Mr. Sam trying to cook his breakfast, Mimsy tell him he not cook when Mimsy here.” Dean snorted. “Would Mistress and Sir be liking breakfast.”

“Please, Mimsy,” Hermione said; it was too early to argue about who would prepare breakfast and in the end, Hermione would lose anyway and Mimsy would make it. “I would like pancakes with my usual toppings, a cup of tea and a bacon, sausage, hash brown and egg sandwich please.”

“A what?” Dean asked confused.

“A bacon, sausage, hash brown and egg sandwich, don’t tell me you’ve never had one.” She looked scandalised when he shook his head. “Mimsy, please prepare the same for Dean.”

“Of course, Mistress, Mimsy be having everything ready in thirty minutes,” she then disappeared from the room.

Hermione climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

“Where are you going?”

“To shower and get ready, breakfast will be ready in half an hour.”

“Can I come?”

“If you wish to,” Hermione laughed when she was all but tackled into the shower, still fully clothed.

~000~000~000~

After a very pleasurable morning shower, in which Hermione’s eyes had once again changed, her claws grew adding more scratches to Dean’s back and a lot of purring and swearing, Hermione exited her bedroom feeling light and boneless and nothing could ruin her good mood.

She made her way to the kitchen and was stopped when she heard shouting.

“HERMIONE!”

She stopped in the corridor and popped her head into the room that Dean had chosen but never actually used. He stood there, a towel hung low on his hips and tipping one of his duffle bags upside down.

“What?” She asked, after tearing away her eyes from watching as his muscles rippled when he moved.

“Where the hell are my clothes?” He demanded.

She chuckled and shook her head. “Mittens,” Hermione called softly and a house-elf appeared in the room.

This house-elf had fewer wrinkles than Mimsy and darker green skin. His eyes were larger and a golden colour. He had no hair on his ears, but he did on his knuckles and he had a smaller nose. He wore black pants and a white shirt.

“Mistress called for Mittens,” he said, bowing unsteadily and she smiled at him.

“Good Morning, Mittens,” Hermione greeted. “Did you have a good’s night rest?” She asked him.

“Mittens sleep well, thank you, Mistress,” he shifted on his feet nervously and she moved closer and crouched down in front of him.

“Mittens, I would like to introduce you to Dean Winchester, his brother, Sam, is in the kitchen.”

“Pleasure to meet the Sir,” Mittens said nervously and he bowed again.

“Yeah, you too,” Dean replied, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the house-elf’s nervous behaviour.

“Mittens, it seems Dean’s clothes have gone missing, would you happen to know where they are?” She asked the nervous elf gently.

“Yes, Mistress, Mittens took them to clean, they be very dirty. Mittens check if they be dry and bring them back to the Sir.”

“Thank you,” she said softly and the house-elf disappeared from the room and she stood up.

“Well he acted differently to Mimsy,” he noted.

She nodded and sighed. “Mittens is the newest of my house-elves. I rescued him six months ago from a truly awful family, when I found him he was underweight, covered in burns and half dead. He was scared of his own shadow. He used to wet the bed for the first month of being here, but he’s starting to get more comfortable. The other house-elves are looking after him and he knows I wouldn’t hurt him and that he’s safe here. He’s one of the younger ones, being on seventy-six in age.”

“Mittens have the Sir’s clothes,” he snapped his fingers and they appeared in the room, landing softly on the bed and folded neatly.

“Thank you, Mittens, you’ve done a wonderful job as always. Have you had much laundry?”

“No, Mistress, Mittens be doing washing for one-hundred and three apartments, Mittens wish he had more to do.”

“I’m sure if you speak to Mimsy she will be able to assign you a new chore or project.”

“Yes, Mistress, would you be needing anything else?”

“No thank you, Mittens,” she smiled and he left the room. “Right, Dean, get dressed, you’re breakfast will be getting cold.”

She headed to the kitchen and sat down at the table, seeing the food already there and waiting.

“Morning,” he greeted.

“Morning, Sam, I hear you had a run-in with Mimsy.”

“She’s terrifying, all I did was try and cook breakfast, I thought she was going to hit me with the spatula with the way she was waving it around and pointing it at me.”

She snorted at him. “That was your first mistake,” Hermione said amused. “Did any of your clothing happen to go missing this morning?”

“Yes, though before I could come and find you, Mimsy found me and told me someone called Mittens had done my laundry for me, and she gave me them back,” he explained, just as Dean waltzed into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table and Sam noticed that he looked decidedly joyful that morning.

“Do you have anything for us, Sammy?” Dean asked.

“I do actually, Bobby called twenty minutes ago. He wants us to head over to Columbus, Indiana. He’s got a contact over there that says they’ve been a few weird incidences happening at one of the schools.”

“Such as?” Hermione asked.

“He didn’t go into much detail knowing we’d look into things, but some students have started falling ill and some are having freak accidents.”

“Sounds promising,” Dean nodded thoughtfully. “Bobby’s contact have any idea what it is?”

“No, that’s for us to figure out. Luckily two of the teachers at the school have also fallen ill, so there’s our entry.”

“What subjects?” Hermione asked.

“English and PE.”

Dean started laughing. “I guess it’s time to break out the whistle.”

“If you even think of wearing anything similar to those red shorts, I will stick your head down the toilet,” Sam warned, Dean smirked in challenge.

“Boys, play nicely,” she interrupted them. “So Dean’s cover is set, that just leaves the English teacher.”

“You should do it,” Dean shrugged.

“What?” Both Sam and Hermione questioned.

“Sorry, Sammy, I know you’re a big book lover, but the students are more likely to talk to her than you. She’s less intimidating since they don’t know her or what she’s capable of.”

“I guess I’m the janitor again,” he muttered, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“We’ll leave after breakfast then, I’ll be right back,” she stood and made her way to the fireplace.

“Where are you going?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well we’re taking a case in a school where we’re posing as teachers, we’re going to need some paperwork and fake identities,” she answered, before stepping into the flames and leaving the brothers confused.

“You know, now that you suggested she be the English Sub, she’s going to have a lot of male attention,” Sam smirked.

“What do you mean?” Dean frowned.

“Well, we’re going to a high school, filled with hundreds of teenage boys and their hormones, and Hermione is rather good looking.”

A look of realisation crossed Dean’s face.

“You be the English Sub, she can be the janitor, no one will take a second look at her if she’s wearing coveralls and boots.”

Sam laughed at him, seeing that Dean was completely serious.

~000~000~000~

She stepped out of the floo brushing off the soot from her clothing.

“Boys,” Hermione called and they entered the living room, carrying their duffle bags.

“Your new identities,” she handed Dean a file and Sam a small wallet with fake ID.

“What are these?” Dean asked her.

“Your transcripts detailing your career as a PE teacher, including references from some of your previous employers and a background check.”

“How did you get those?” Sam asked amazed.

“I work for a Magical Government that has but a few limitations. You can easily get these done in this world, though it’d likely cost a fortune and you risk the chance of being caught if they aren’t done correctly. I didn’t have to pay for these and I have a high-security clearance, and everyone is too afraid to ask why I need them anyway. They’re done perfectly; even a fraud expert wouldn’t be able to tell they were falsified. Once we’re in the car, I’ll phone ahead so the school knows to expect us. Right then, boys, I’ll just grab my bag and we can go.”

They stared after her as she left them.

“She’s handy,” Sam said and Dean snorted, looking over the forged documents impressed.

~000~000~000~

“Okay, room keys, Hermione, you’re Room 17, and we’re Room 18.”

She took the key with a smile, noticing that stood behind Sam was Dean, and he was currently burning a hole in the back of his brother’s head with his glare and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

“Do you want me to...” She made a swishing motion with her hand, as if she had a wand in it.

“Thank God,” Sam sighed. “The motels we stay in aren’t as bad when you’ve,” he made the same motion with his hand and she laughed at him.

Sam lead the way to their rooms, Hermione fell in step with Dean, who was still glaring at his brother.

“You do realise that he doesn’t know about us, don’t you?”

“He suspects, and if it’s one thing Sammy’s not, it’s stupid,” he muttered.

“I don’t see why you’re so upset by this, I now have a room to myself,” she walked off, leaving him to catch up with Sam, and when she saw Dean enter the motel room, he looked a lot less like murdering his brother and more like hugging him.

~000~000~000~

After cleaning and fumigating the room, Hermione was now settled into her motel room. It had a table and two chairs in the corner of the room by the window. A chest of drawers was against the wall with an old looking TV sat on top of it. The double bed was opposite it, the headboard against the wall and two bedside tables on either side with lamps perched on top. There was a small closet which Hermione had already hung up her clothing for the next few days, seeing as she wasn’t sure how long they would be staying for, and that just left the bathroom. The walls were red-brown and she wasn’t particularly fond of the patterned carpet, nor was she of the bedding which she changed anyway, using her own duvet and pillows.

She had pulled her hair on top of her head in a mess to keep it out of her face and she wore nothing but an old t-shirt -that once belonged to Charlie, falling to her mid-thigh- since it was a warm night in the motel. She was just turning down the duvet when there was a knock at the door.

She walked over to the door and opened it, revealing Dean, still wearing his jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket. She stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind him and locking it, casting wards around the room, including the windows; she was not making that mistake again.

“You didn’t question me,” he pointed out, not looking happy that she’d let him into her room without bothering to check it was actually him.

“There wasn’t any point,” she shrugged. “You’ve got your anti-possession tattoo and you walked through the demon trap.”

“What demon trap?” He asked surprised.

“Sam drew me a demon trap on some parchment when we stopped for dinner. I enlarged it, placed a few charms around it to preserve it and then I stuck it to the ceiling in the corridor outside my door and then I cast a Disillusionment Charm on it, to make it invisible to anyone who didn’t know what to look for.”

“You can do that?” He asked, looking amazed.

“I can, saves a lot of time, too. I can also have all of the entrances and exits lined with salt with a simple wave of my wand,” she said amused at his surprised face.

“And why didn’t you tell us this before? Do you know how much time we could’ve saved?”

“A lot, and I thought I’d leave you to it, I didn’t want to intrude on your ritual,” she patted his chest as she walked past him, heading to the bed.

He muttered under his breath and then turned and followed her.

“Whose shirt is that?” He asked her.

“Charlie’s,” she shrugged.

“And why the hell are you wearing another man’s shirt?”

“Bloody hell, you are a possessive prat,” she said, finally realising the true extent of his confession the night before.

“I don’t like you wearing another man’s clothing,” he crossed his arms, a look on his face as though he were about to endure an argument with her.

She arched her brow at him. “Charlie’s my brother, well sort of, his mother practically adopted me and I grew up with him and his brothers and sister, although I didn’t meet him until I was fifteen. If you want to continue this _relationship_ between us, you’ll have to get used to seeing me in other men’s clothing, Dean. Half of my wardrobe consists of clothing I’ve stolen from my brothers since they don’t fit them anymore and they’re comfortable. Harry says I’m a magpie for men’s clothing, and to some extent, I agree with him,” she shrugged. He still didn’t look happy about it. She sighed. “Give me your bloody t-shirt,” she held her hand out expectantly.

“What?” He asked dumbly.

“Give me your bloody shirt,” she repeated.

He was clearly confused by her response, but he removed his leather jacket and placed it on the table, pulling his shirt over his head and holding it out to her.

She pulled her shirt over her head and his eyes zeroed in when her body was revealed to him. Her breasts held snugly in the red lace bra and she wore the matching knickers, her flat stomach and feminine curves and her scars that stood out against her ivory skin bare to his gaze.

She took the shirt from him and pulled it over her head, covering herself from his view far too quickly for his liking. She looked up at him and saw the heated gaze in eyes, and he took a step towards her, so she took a step back.

“Nope,” she shook her head. “You’ve been jealous for no reason and you don’t deserve sex.”

“What?” He spoke, visibly surprised by her answer.

“You heard me.”

“But...”

“No, silly boys don’t get rewarded.”

She stalked into the bathroom, sniggering to herself when she heard Dean take a few deep breaths, before grumbling to himself. She walked out of the bathroom to see Dean scowling at her, sitting on the edge of the bed in just his underwear. She had to mentally slap herself upside the head to stop herself from staring at him; she had to stick to her guns and not give in, no matter how devilishly handsome he was.

He made to speak but she shook her head at him, his scowl deepening further.

“Come on, Winchester, we have school in the morning, wow, never thought I’d say those words again,” she spoke shaking her head slightly, before climbing into bed.

Despite Dean’s grumblings of “wicked witches” and “teasing temptresses” he climbed in bed behind her and wrapped himself around her.

“If you’re a good boy, Mr. Winchester, we’ll see what tomorrow brings,” Hermione mumbled, he muttered obscenities and insults against the skin of her neck and she sniggered.

~000~000~000~

The next morning it wasn’t the alarm she had set on her wand that woke her up, although it was buzzing on the bedside table, no, it was the feel of hands trailing up and down her skin and under the t-shirt she wore.

She could feel his body pressed against her, including the bulge in his underwear against her bum. She could feel his warm breath ghosting her neck and partially her ear. She could feel his hands, exploring every piece of her skin slowly and softly, yet unrestrained and quickly.

And despite herself, her breath hitched.

He chuckled and she felt him smirk against the skin of his neck.

“So, Miss. Hart, has the day brought good things?” He asked her and she could hear the amusement in his voice.

“The day is only beginning,” she responded, and she was proud that she had managed to sound so calm. “There’s still time, besides, we have to get ready, we need to be there an hour earlier than usual so we can meet with the principal and secure our cover story.”

“I guess we don’t have a lot of time then,” he replied, his hands coming away from her breasts which he had been kneading, and slipping them lower towards her underwear.

“We have to get ready,” she protested weakly.

“If you just use magic like you did before, you can have us ready in no time, meaning we can spend our time doing something a lot more _pleasurable_ ,” his voice turned husky as he whispered against her ear and her breath caught.

Her eyes fell closed as his hand dipped under the waistband and slipped through her folds. Despite her protests and avoidance of the matter, he was amused to find that she was more than ready for him, and he had barely touched her!

His thumb found her nub, whilst he slipped two fingers into her entrance. She let out a little moan, her back bowing whilst her bum pressed against his erection and he took a deep, calming breath.

He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to tease her. He had been thinking about her all night, to the point where she had entered his dreams, and he believed she‘d also dreamt of him, as he’d woken up during the night to her shifting in her sleep, her bum wriggling against him whilst quiet little moans and mumbles of his name escaped her. It was fair to say he hadn’t gotten much sleep after that. It was the Little Witch’s fault and he wasn’t going to complain, especially since she was now putty in his hands, whimpering and mewling as her hips moved against his hand and her hand gripped at his arm, her nails biting into him.

He slipped his hand out of her underwear and she gave a whine of disapproval. He chuckled and placed a kiss to her neck. And whilst she was still distracted and coming down from the edge Dean had pulled her towards, he pulled her to face him and crashed his mouth against hers. She gave a noise of surprise but moaned when his tongue brushed against hers.

His hand pulled her leg to rest over his hip, bringing their lower halves together and she gasped and mewled when he bucked into her. Her hands slid up his chest and over his shoulders to bury themselves in his hair, tugging on his strands, while his hands slipped to her hips, gripping her tightly.

His hands fell down to her knickers and he ripped the flimsy material, pulling it from between them and dropping it to the ground, so all that separated them was his boxers. She pulled back with heavy breathing, and she tried to glare at him but failed with her feline-like eyes shining, and he knew exactly what she was feeling when he saw them and it certainly wasn’t anger or disapproval.

Before she could scold him for ruining a pair of what were sure to be expensive underwear given her wealth, his mouth found hers once more and within seconds, she was melting against him.

Her hands came from his hair and trailed over his shoulders and chest, scratching her nails down his abdomen and he bucked into her at the action. She stopped at his underwear and slipped her hand around his length, squeezing before beginning to pump her hand over him, using the liquid leaking from his slit as lubrication.

He groaned into her mouth and pushed his hips against her hand. It wasn’t long until he felt his pending release and he pulled her hand from him and somehow managed to get his boxers off and onto the floor without having to stop kissing her.

He pulled her leg back over his hip once more, before lining himself up and slowly pushing into her teasingly, inch by inch.

She pulled her mouth from him and mewled softly, her forehead resting against his, while he groaned and focused on not slamming into her. Despite the little time they had before they were due at the school, he wanted to take his time with her.

She cursed in a whisper when he was buried deep inside of her and he chuckled in agreement; he didn’t think he’d ever get used to her warm, wet, silkiness, to her tightness, to the way she cursed and purred his name, or whimpered and mewled when he was inside of her.

The only time he felt at ease was when he was with Hermione and he knew that he would do anything he could to not screw things up with her. He couldn’t lose the feelings she made him feel. For years he had barely been coping, but since his father had died and he almost lost Sam, everything got worse. He often drank until he passed out, in hopes, it would help with the nightmares. He often had one night stands, in hopes that it would allow him to feel something different, in hopes it would dull the pain. He was overly annoying and teasing to hide the fact that he wasn’t coping with things, and it had worked, for a short while.

Soon the one night stands didn’t have the effects they once had, and the drinking just left him with a monstrous hangover. He was sure Sam had noticed his behaviour and he could tell he had been gearing up to talk to him about it, but that’s when they met Hermione.

She came into their lives with her wand and spells and magic blazing. Literally. He knew she was changing him even if she didn’t. She had changed his view of the world. Of magic. Of trueborn witchcraft. She made him feel things he didn’t think he was able to feel, or things he hadn’t felt since a small child, before his mother had been murdered. Even Cassie, his longest lasting and only _relationship_ –if he could call it that- hadn’t been able to do that, but Hermione had after a mere few days. She made him feel young again, without any worries or cares. She understood his need to be a Hunter and rather than yelling at him or leaving, she’d decided to go with him. She made him feel alive.

He couldn’t lose that. He wouldn’t.

“Where’s your head at?”

His eyes which had glazed over returned to normal and he saw that although she had a pleasure-filled look on her face, her feline-like eyes were looking at him worriedly and she had a crease in her forehead.

He didn’t answer her question, instead, he captured her lips with his own, and he began to slowly move his hips whilst pouring all of his thanks and gratitude into the kiss.

She pushed him onto his back and straddled him, pulling back from the kiss to look down at him. Both of their chests heaving and he stared up at her with dark eyes filled with lust and another emotion she couldn’t quite decipher. She rested her hands on his chest for balance and began to slowly move over him, moving her hips in circles as she did so.

He wanted to see her. He had to see all of her.

His hands moved from her hips to grip the edge of her shirt. His shirt. She would wear his shirts more often, he decided. He sat up, bringing them face to face and pulled the material over her head and dropping it to the floor, before quickly undoing her bra and dropping that to the floor, too.

He watched her, as her face down to her breasts had flushed pink, as her feline eyes were wide open and locked on to his. As her breathing came out in pants and her lips were parted, mewls and whimpers escaping. She was beautiful.

His hands came up to her hair and he untied the bobble keeping her unruly curls back from her face. He preferred her hair down; he liked to see the untameable mess unbound, as to him it was a perfect representation of her. Wild, untameable, natural, beautiful. He liked the idea of being able to bury his hands in her hair, of her curls tangling around his fingers. He liked to see them sway as she walked and he found it funny when the wind would blow her hair into her face and she would push it back into place with a huff.

He watched in wonder as they suddenly spilt down her back and over her shoulders, surrounding her like a halo. And that’s when he realised. She was an Angel. Did what she say about being fated have any merit? Had the big man upstairs intended for them to meet?

Because to him, she was an Angel. She had saved his life in more ways than one and she had barely done anything.

He was brought out of his thoughts when her nails, no claws, dug into him and she had begun to purr. He flipped them, putting her on her back and he crushed her into the mattress with his weight. She let out a long purr and her nails clawed at his back until he could feel warm liquid beginning to run down his skin and her walls were beginning to flutter around him.

He took her hands and laced his fingers through hers, pinning them on either side of her head and he kept her gaze, watching as the emotions flickered through her feline eyes.

 _‘Mine! Mine! Mine!’_ He thought over and over and over again. 

A loud purr left her and he didn’t try to catch the sound in his mouth, he wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear what he did to her. He was so enraptured with watching her face and listening to her purring, he was taken by surprise when she suddenly clamped down onto him and she was squeezing him so tightly that his breath hitched and he was unable to hold back even if he tried, and he released inside of her.

They laid there, staring at each other as they regained their breathing.

Their eyes were drawn to the door when there was a knock on it.

“Hermione! Have you seen Dean?” Sam’s voice called.

She and Dean shared a look and he started laughing, burying his head into her neck and hair to muffle the sound.

“No,” she called back through a giggle. “He probably went to get breakfast!”

“His car’s still here!”

“Maybe he walked; the diner’s only five minutes from here!”

“Yeah, you’re right; we have to leave in fifteen minutes, with or without him!”

“Okay, I’ll meet you by the car!” She waited until she heard his boots against the metal staircase before she started laughing.

~000~000~000~

Sam walked away from Hermione’s motel room with an amused smirk on his face. He knew exactly where Dean was and where he had been all night for that matter. Not only had he heard Dean leave when he thought he was sleeping, he hadn’t come back.

And what Hermione and Dean didn’t realise was that the walls of the motel were very thin, and for that reason, he had heard everything; from Hermione calling Dean a possessive prat the previous night, to their obvious morning activities.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

“How are we going to explain the fact I returned to the room without breakfast?” Dean asked, as he stepped out of the quickest shower of his life, Hermione had already showered before him and had busied herself with dressing.

He entered the room with his towel low on his hips and his hair still damp. Hermione waved her wand at him, drying his hair for him and then she summoned his clothing from his room, handing it to him.

He looked her over, he could see that she was wearing three inch black heels, though he couldn’t see the rest of her clothing since she wore a long light grey coat that was tied closed and it stopped past the knees. She had her hair in a ponytail, her curls falling down her back and she wore a pair of thick-rimmed reading glasses, if it was Sam he would’ve insulted him with every name under the sun, but he found that she actually suited them and he suddenly had a sexy teacher fantasy flicker through his mind.

“I’ll apparate to the diner and pick something up, if you hurry we can both make it to the car in time.” She smiled at him and then turned on the spot with her wand in hand, leaving behind a ‘crack.’ Dean blinked at the empty space where she had once stood, before quickly pulling on his clothing.

He had been tempted to find another pair of red shorts, but he honestly believed that Sam would stick his head down the toilet, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep up with the insults and jokes Hermione would send his way. Instead, they had stopped to purchase a few items of clothing on the way the previous day, and now he was sporting a plain white t-shirt, a white light material tracksuit jacket and the matching shorts which fell above his knees, and he wore trainer socks and a new pair of trainers.

By the time he had finished dressing, Hermione arrived back in the motel room, making him jump in surprise. He caught her looking him over since his clothing was rather form-fitting. He gave her a knowing look as he took the coffee she offered him.

She sighed. “Later,” she nodded to herself and he found himself agreeing. She found her satchel which she had filled with all of the things she would need, including their references and documentation. “Let’s go, we had to leave in fifteen minutes, twenty-five minutes ago.”

Together they both left the hotel room, heading down to the Impala where Sam was stood waiting.

“Have a good walk?” Sam asked innocently.

“Yes, thanks, I’ll have to do it more often,” he eyed Hermione up and she rolled her eyes at them both.

~000~000~000~

Hermione was in her empty classroom, sat at the chair behind the desk and looking out at all of the empty desks before her. She was trying to calm her nerves before the students entered the classroom in five minutes time.

The meeting with the principal had gone perfectly, mainly because Hermione had kept her hand on Dean’s thigh and she would dig her nails into his skin every time he was about to say something inappropriate. They had been told of their responsibilities and then given a brief tour of the building, lasting only fifteen minutes, though Hermione had a very good memory and she was sure she would be able to find her way around the school, if not she would ask another staff member or a student.

They had been taken to the staff room to meet with the other teachers, and Hermione had noted that several of the female teachers had eyed up Dean, regardless of the fact that some of them were married. Dean had stayed close by her side, though that was due to some of the male teachers eyeing her up. It was lovely how possessive they were of each other.

Afterwards, Hermione had been taken to her classroom and had been left to settle in. And now, the time had come for her to be a teacher. She could do this. She had guest lectured at Hogwarts more than once and she was used to fighting till the death and being surrounded by the press, she could handle a few hormonal teenagers... She hoped.

She jumped in her chair when the bell rang and her classroom door opened, students filing in. She got up from her seat and went over to the board behind her desk. She picked up the dry-erase marker and began to write her name on the board.

When she turned around all seats but two were taken and everyone was staring at her. She noticed that all of the boys suddenly sat up taller as she walked around her desk to stand in front of them. This showed off her black pencil skirt which fell to just below her knees and her white shirt which had long sleeves and the first two buttons were undone, which was tucked into the high waist of her skirt. Her eyes flickered over the students, placing them into certain categories.

She noticed the boys wearing letterman jackets and knew they were likely popular, as were three of the girls that were wearing cheerleader uniforms. She noticed the boys and girls that obviously had some wealth, as their clothes looked to be of the highest quality and the best fashion. Then there were the ones that likely faded into the background, they were average looking and had their own groups of friends. She noticed those that would be considered ‘nerds’ with their glasses and frumpy clothing. She was going off her experiences at Hogwarts and what she remembered. She didn’t want to stereotype anyone, but at the minute she had to take things at face value until she learned more about her students.

“Good Morning,” she said, gaining their attention, well, technically she gained the attention of the girls since the boys had already been staring at her. Though, she could clearly see they were surprised by her British accent. “As you can likely tell, I am your substitute English teacher and I will be here until Mr. Wellers is well enough to return. My name is Miss. Hart,” she gestured to the board behind her where she had written her name. She then picked up some sticky labels from her desk and placed several on each of the front row desks.

“Please take one and pass them along, once that is done, I would like for you to write your name on them so that I may learn your names,” she turned and headed back to her desk, taking a seat and waiting for them to do so.

When they had all stuck the sticky labels to their clothing she smiled at them.

“Thank you, now I believe that Mr. Wellers set you a homework assignment, can the person at the back of each row please collect them from each desk in your row and bring them to my desk. And no rotten excuses, believe me, us Brits have used them all, I can guarantee there isn’t one I haven’t heard of,” she said amused, thinking of the many times some of her classmates had used both magical and muggle excuses. Though George’s were the best, nothing could top not finishing his Potions assignment because he had been too busy wanking off, she wished she could’ve been in his class the day he told Snape.

There was a scrape of chairs as they did as she asked and she thanked each of the students as they placed the assignments on the desk. She quickly counted them and knowing how many students she had, she knew some were missing.

“Will those that have not handed in their homework assignment please stand.” There was a scrape of chairs and three of the boys wearing letterman jackets stood up, as did one of the cheerleaders and three other students.

“Okay, as I said before, I don’t want to hear any excuses and you haven’t handed them in, that’s fine with me.” Noises of surprise filled the room and everyone looked at her stunned, some happy with the news, others not so much. “I am not going to be marking these assignments, Mr. Wellers will do so when he returns, so you better make sure you hand those assignments into me before that happens as I will not be making excuses for you.” They nodded in gratefulness and then sat back down in their chairs.

“Right then, since I am not comfortable in butting in on Mr. Wellers set curriculum as I know he has all of his lessons planned out meticulously, instead we will be doing something different until he returns. So, what I would like to work on with you all is your ability to argue something you either agree with or don’t, and we all like a good argument, don’t we?” She smiled at them, leaning back against her desk.

“I’ll tell you all this now to ease some weight off your shoulders. I will not be assigning you any homework assignments unless I believe it is necessary. But I would like you to do some research and to put together a presentation for the coming project, whether it be a powerpoint, a poster or even a pamphlet, but we’ll go into details later. Before we get started, I would like to get to know you better, I believe it is important that I remain professional in the classroom, but it is also important that I know my students. If I know something about you, I may be able to include that in my teaching to better engage your attention. For example, I am Miss. Hart, I am originally from London, England and I was born and raised there. I moved here a few years ago and when I’m not working as a teacher, I am visiting my family back home in England, or I go to Romania to visit one of my brothers, since he lives and works there. I love pie and I have been told that I have an unnatural obsession with food.” They stared at her in surprise.

“Your turn, let’s see, Jordan, would you mind going first?” Everyone turned in their seats to look at the back right corner of the room. The boy in question gulped and stood up, looking around the room nervously and pushing his glasses up his nose.

“What should I say?” He asked, looking down at the desk.

“Anything you wish to,” she smiled encouragingly. “Tell us something interesting about yourself,” she offered. He shrugged. “Have you lived in the area all your life?”

“Yes,” he nodded, though still looking down at the desk.

“Okay, what do your parent’s do for a living?”

“My dad’s an accountant and my mom works in the local library,” he muttered.

There were several snorts and whispers of “nerd,” “dork,” and “runs in the family.”

Hermione frowned. “Let’s get one thing clear,” her voice rang out in the classroom and they all looked at her. She wasn’t smiling, she wasn’t glaring either, but it was easy to tell she wasn’t happy. “I will treat you as adults, I will treat you all with respect and I will give you some freedom in this classroom, but there is one thing that I will not tolerate and that is bullying. If I hear anyone speak an insult, if I see any threatening behaviour, or if I see something that passes for physical abuse, including the throwing of objects, I will kick you out this classroom and mark you as a non-attendee, I will inform your parents or guardian of why you were asked to leave and I will also assign you a five thousand word essay on why bullying is not tolerated and why and how it has consequences for everyone involved. Is that clear?” There were nods and muttered apologies. “Good. You are my senior class and I expect better behaviour from you. Now, Jordan, what do you like to do in your free time?”

“Read,” he mumbled, his face turning pink at her defending him.

“I love to read,” she said excitedly, and she hopped up onto the desk, perching on the edge of it and crossing her legs, resting her clasped hands in her lap. “What is your favourite book or series?” She asked intrigued.

“ _Lord of the Rings_ ,” he muttered.

“Really, I loved reading those books growing up, I begged my parents to get them for me for Christmas when I was eight years old. I read the series within three months.”

His head finally looked up from the desk, staring at her in surprise, as were all of the other boys.

“Three months?” He choked surprised.

“Yes, I was a bit of a child prodigy,” she said sheepishly. “Thank you for sharing that with us, Jordan, you may sit down.” He looked relieved and slumped into his seat. “Next, let’s see. Blake, would you mind going next?”

The boy wearing the letterman jacket stood up, looking far more confident than Jordan had.

“Tell us about yourself, Blake.”

“I’m the quarterback for the football team,” he said proudly.

“I’m afraid I have no knowledge of sports, no matter which country I am in,” she smiled. “What do you like to do other than football?”

“Hang out with my friends,” he shrugged.

“Alright, what’s the one thing you can’t live without?”

“Bacon,” he answered, making everyone laugh and she chuckled at him.

“Good choice, for myself it’s pie or bacon cheeseburgers. Thank you, Blake. Let’s see, Melissa?” The blonde cheerleader stood up. “Tell us about yourself.”

“I’m a cheerleader, a flyer,” she shrugged. 

“Sorry to say, I know nothing about cheerleading either, on the other hand how to eat a full pie by myself...” The students laughed at her and she smiled.

~000~000~000~

Since there was twenty minutes left of the lesson and Hermione had gotten through everything she wished to with her freshman class, she dismissed them for an early lunch. Though she did ask for one of them to show her to the locker rooms were she knew Dean would be. She had the male student check that it was fine for her to enter and she thanked him when he confirmed it was.

She entered the room to see several boys sitting on benches and leaning against lockers, talking and joking around in small groups and they were fully clothed, but it was obvious they had recently showered.

“Miss. Hart?”

She smiled at the teenager, noting that he still had the sticker on his clothing from her lesson.

“Hello, Blake,” she greeted.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to speak with Mr. Chester.”

“You know him?”

“I do, we both work for the same agency and have for a few years now, I best catch him before lunch, I’ll see you in class tomorrow, and remember to bring your assignment for Mr. Wellers,” she reminded and then she nodded at him and his group of friends that were all but drooling and she turned and headed towards the end of the room where the office was located.

Dean was sat at the desk in the office, his feet propped up on the desk and leaning back in his chair while he flipped through the magazine in his hand. She entered the office and shut the door behind her, reaching over to shut the blinds.

When she entered he looked up and he dropped the magazine to the floor, staring at her heatedly.

“Hello, Mr. Chester, how’s your morning been?” She asked politely.

“It’s about to get a whole lot better,” his voice took a husky tone and he stood from his chair.

“I believe it is,” she nodded in agreement. “Lunch is in ten minutes and I’m starving.” He gawked at her and she started laughing at him, he had clearly not been expecting her answer. “Did you really think I’d have sex with you? Here? With teenagers surrounding us and the chance of anyone walking in on us at any minute?”

“You can’t walk in here looking like that,” he waved his hand at her clothing, “And not expect my reaction to it.”

“Why? You don’t have a sexy teacher fantasy do you?” She arched her brow at him. “Oh Merlin, you do,” she said laughing when she saw his eyes darken at the mention of it. “Well, you never know, Mr. Chester, if you behave yourself for the rest of the day, then maybe the fates will be kind to you,” she smirked at him. “I actually came here to find out if you’ve learned anything yet.”

He scowled at her and then sat in his seat. She walked over to the desk and leaned against it, standing beside him.

“No, nothing useful at least, I did hear some of them,” he nodded towards the door gesturing to the students out there, “Talking of the hot new English teacher though.”

“Well, I’ve also heard my juniors speak of the hot new PE teacher,” she replied. “And I haven’t learned anything yet either. I’m making an effort to get to know the students in my class so that I can get a better judge of character. I think I’m doing alright so far. I think we should be focusing on the seniors though, there have been five students that have had freak accidents or illnesses and they were all seniors.”

He nodded in agreement.

“So, I’ve never been to an American High School before, how’s the cafeteria food?” She asked him.

“Depends on the school, some schools I attended their food was awful and others weren’t that bad,” he shrugged.

“I hope the food here is good, otherwise I’m digging through my supplies and making lunch for us tomorrow.” He looked at her amused. “What? You’ve seen what I’m like when I’m hungry. By the time it got to half ten I was starving and I couldn’t just magically whip up a snack, now could I?”

“I stand by my words; I have never seen anyone eat as much as you, man or woman.”

“You better not be calling me fat,” she scowled at him.

He chuckled at her, reaching out to pull at her hips so that she fell into his lap and he wrapped his arms around her as her scowl never left her face.

“I’m not calling you fat. We need to get food into you, you’re cranky and we don’t want you to scare the kids half to death,” he said amused.

“Very funny,” she muttered.

“I think I’m hilarious,” he replied. “Now, kiss me and we can get you fed.”

“Are you going to be able to control yourself?”

“Are you?” He shot back with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes at him but gave him a kiss. His hand moved to the back of her neck to keep her to him since she had tried to end the kiss far too early for his liking. He parted her lips with a nip to her bottom lip and then slipped his tongue into her mouth. When his brushed against hers she moaned into his mouth and her hands found their way into his hair.

One of his hands slid down her body and the moment he began to massage at her clothed breast, she pulled back from him, managing to gain her bearings.

“That’s not behaving, Mr. Chester,” she scolded.

“It was for me,” he pointed out and she actually believed him, by this point she knew him quite well to know that was true.

The bell suddenly rang signalling the start of lunch.

“It’s about time, I’m starving,” she complained and he chuckled at her.

She stood up, straightening out her skirt and shirt and pushing some fallen curls behind her ears. He stood up and ruffled his hair trying to get it to fall back into place to hide the fact Hermione had run her hands through it.

“Come on then, let’s get you fed, you might be more persuadable to my charm afterwards.”

“And to think, I was actually thinking of succumbing to charms later this evening,” she huffed and then walked out of the office, leaving Dean staring after her. He shook his head and followed her out, stopping when he saw that all of the students were still there and currently staring at them both.

“What were you doing in there, Miss. Hart?” A voice teased.

“Going over our contracts for our time here, we have to make sure we are being given the correct terms and we’re not being swindled out of any rights we have as a member of staff here, even if we are temporary.”

Her answer bored them.

“You should be having lunch, go,” Dean said with narrowed eyes, picking up the whistle that hung around his neck and giving it a blow, pointing to the door. The students dispersed, leaving them alone. “The whistle makes me their God,” he said smugly.

She sighed and reached up to slap him on the back of the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” He demanded, scowling at her.

“I now owe Sam one hundred dollars, he bet me that you would say that whilst on this case. You didn’t even last half a day,” she said, before storming away from him.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

“I’m hungry,” Hermione complained as they made their way back to the motel after finishing up for the day at the school.

“When are you not hungry?” He rolled his eyes at her.

“When I’m being fed,” she replied and he snorted at her.

“When we get back to the motel we’ll get changed and walk to the diner. Sammy can take the car to the school since he’s got the late shift tonight.”

She nodded in agreement, and her face lit up when they pulled into a parking space belonging to the motel. 

“So, how was your day?” Sam asked as they entered his motel room, he was dressed in his boots and coveralls, ready to leave for the school.

“Not bad,” Hermione shrugged. “Didn’t really learn anything of importance. Did you?”

“Not really, everything I found's on the table,” he nodded to the table and grabbed the keys from Dean, as he headed for the door. “See you later,” he called shutting the door behind him.

Hermione took off her coat and draped it over the back of the chair, before kicking off her shoes and flopping down onto the bed closest to her. She sighed happily.

She could feel his eyes on her and she lifted her head to see him gazing at her heatedly. She arched her eyebrow at him.

“Are you sure I can’t charm that skirt off you?” He asked.

She laughed. “No, but if you feed me your chances will be better.” She stood up and picked up her heels and coat. “I’m going to change, I’ll be ten minutes.” And rather than leaving the room and walking to her own next door, she apparated into it.

She placed her things down and quickly undressed, casting some cleaning charms over herself before redressing in a pair of black heeled ankle boots, black faux leather trousers, a white spaghetti strap top and she found the cropped leather jacket Ginny had bought her a few years ago for her birthday, which she had only had the chance to wear once. She left her hair tied up in her ponytail but took off her glasses.

She grabbed her beaded bag and apparated back to Dean, who had just finished changing himself. He wore his boots, well-worn jeans and a black t-shirt with his leather jacket.

He turned around to look at her and his eyes darkened slightly.

“What? Should I change?” She frowned, looking down at herself.

When she looked up Dean was in front of her, towering over her. He pulled her into him by her hips and claimed her mouth, his tongue moving past her parted lips to meet hers. Her hands gripped at his jacket by the lapels, pulling her into him.

Hermione suddenly pushed him back from her and he looked far from impressed. “I’m hungry,” she told him.

“So am I,” he looked down at her pointedly.

“You promised me food,” she pointed out.

He growled and let out a few curse words, before taking a deep breath. “Fine, let’s go get dinner.”

Hermione grabbed the stack of papers off the table and they left the motel room together, Hermione using magic to lock the door since Sam had taken the key with him, and he would likely return before they did.

~000~000~000~

They had decided to skip the diner and keep on walking until they found somewhere that not only sold food but alcohol too, even if it was still early. They found a bar not far from the diner and they entered through the doors and Hermione sighed.

“Is there a seedy bar in every town?” She asked Dean.

He snorted at her. “Everywhere I’ve been there is,” he shrugged.

Hermione managed to convince Dean that they should hold off on the alcohol until the sky began to at least darken and after they had eaten their food, since they did have to return to the school the next morning and Hermione didn’t have any Hangover or Sobriety Potion left, using the last of what she had the last time they had gotten drunk.

“So what did Sammy find?” Dean asked her, as they sat in a booth after ordering their food and waiting for it to arrive.

She started flicking through the papers. “Let’s see, Harrow and Wellers, two well-respected teachers by staff and students. They have been struck down by a serious illness, they were fine one day and the next they were being rushed into hospital. Sam’s done some digging and the doctors don’t know what the illness is and are doing their best to treat it, but at the moment nothing’s helping. Two senior students, Hayley Stewart and Eric Glasper, were both struck down by illnesses also, they, too, are in the hospital but their illnesses aren’t showing the same symptoms as the teachers, so there’s no apparent connection. From what I can tell, Stewart and Glasper were average students, they had fairly good grades. Stewart was part of the school magazine and Glasper was a part of the school’s film club. Stewart and Glasper have been dating for the last month. How did Sam even discover this?” She looked up at him, not only surprised but impressed, too.

He shrugged at her. “He likely called the hospital and impersonated someone from the CDC about the illnesses, as for the kids, they put everything on social media so it wouldn’t have been hard for him to find out what they were interested in and who they were dating. What about the other three?”

She looked back down at the papers and shuffled through them. “Justin Poldark, Steven Frier and Madeline Kristy, also seniors. They had fairly good grades, too, from what I can tell, average academically, but they excelled in other areas. Poldark is the captain of the baseball team and Frier the captain of the soccer team. Kristy is the head cheerleader. Frier was walking down the street when a motorbike drove past. The tyre came loose and hit him. Poldark was riding his bike when he got tangled in some loose telephone pole wire; it wrapped around his throat and strangled him. And Kristy was driving her car when a tree fell on top of her. Luckily they have all survived but are in the intensive care unit at the hospital.”

“So what we have is two well-respected teachers, one member of the film club and one member of the school magazine, all being struck down by mysterious illnesses. And two jocks and one cheerleader, all having freak accidents,” Dean summarised.

“Yes, they were all average grade students with different extracurricular activities and let’s face it, Poldark, Frier and Kristy were likely popular, too,” she added.

“Is it me or does this seem personal?” Dean questioned.

“It does,” she agreed with him. “But what are the motives behind the accidents and illnesses and what’s the cause? Most importantly, are there going to be any more victims?”

“We’ll have to see if Sammy discovers any evidence of a spirit or demon; it’ll help us to narrow it down.”

She nodded. “I have my senior class second period tomorrow; I’ll see what I can get out of them,” she told him, her eyes looking behind him. He turned his head to see what she was staring at and he snorted when he saw that it was their food being brought over to them.

Dean watched amused as she all but inhaled her food when it was placed in front of her. They ate in comfortable silence, Dean would look at her every now and again with a frown on his face, and by the time she had finished eating her food, she sighed in annoyance.

“What is it?”

“What?” He asked dumbly.

“What’s bothering you? You’ve been frowning for the last fifteen minutes, something’s obviously bothering you, so out with it.”

He pushed his empty plate away from him and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Something’s been niggling at me for days now.”

“Yes?”

“Something your friend Harry said.”

She frowned trying to recall anything Harry may have said to have worried Dean, but she couldn’t think of anything.

“When you were in the coma, he visited and your friend and I had a chat.”

She stiffened slightly, but he noticed.

“Yes?” She said, keeping her face blank and her voice void of any emotion.

“Well, he gave me the big brother talk.”

“Of course he did,” she relaxed into her seat and rolled her eyes. “He’s a nosy bastard.”

“He’s just looking out for you.”

“What do you know?” She stiffened once more.

He made sure to keep his eyes locked on hers. “Not much to be honest, and that’s what’s been bothering me. There’s too many things for me to ignore, your friend’s warning and Mimsy’s reaction to your past relationships. I need to know what happened.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, his voice coming out in similar way to when an Alpha werewolf spoke, and she had met and worked with several over the years. It was instinct to look down at the table in submission.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” he answered.

“I’m not drunk enough for this shit,” she mumbled, abandoning her rule about drinking too early and she headed to the bar, ordering four beers and four shots of tequila.

When she returned he watched as she downed the first two shots without taking a break, before downing the final two. She then pushed two beers over to him and she kept two for herself, saving them from having to go to the bar when they wanted another drink.

She took a swig from her beer and then took a deep breath.

“I’m not same person I used to be,” she started. “War changes people and it most certainly changed me. I was brought into it when I was twelve and by the time I turned seventeen, I had faced and survived death, I had faced dark creatures, I had travelled back in time and I was practising and perfecting magic far beyond my years. Before the war I was bossy, a know-it-all, I was kind and compassionate, especially to creatures that didn’t have rights, I’m still those things now, only I know better. I’m not as naive as I used to be, I’ve developed a vengeful streak, and before where I could never have even contemplated taking another life, now I know in some cases, I have to. After the war, everyone had a hard time dealing with the losses and the suffering, but we did our best. We rebuilt our homes and our businesses, we rebuilt Hogwarts so the next generation could begin their education and the rest could continue with theirs. People not only grieved but they celebrated, and we moved on. For some, it was easier than others.” She took another swig of her beer and concentrated on picking at the label on the bottle.

“After the war, I had to deal with the loss of my parents, despite my best efforts I had failed to protect them. I had to deal with the loss of my friends and peers and professors, of fellow members of The Order. I was constantly in and out of St. Mungo’s, having all sorts of tests done on me because of what I had suffered during the war. Ronald and I started dating when I returned to Hogwarts and at first everything was great, until I found out he had been repeatedly cheating on me. I found out in the newspaper, there was a whole eight page spread on his infidelity and pictures of dozens of girls plastered in the newspaper, and there was no way Ronald could’ve talked himself out of it, they say a picture is worth a thousand words, and these photos were speaking loud and clear. He blamed me. He said it was my fault he was unable to stay faithful to me, because I wasn’t the same me. Since the war, I had become dull, lifeless, and distant. He called me a cold-hearted, frigid bitch. We broke up. His family were on my side though, they didn’t speak to him for weeks, even George who was grieving over losing his twin brother, Fred, found it in him to create a few new joke products that needed to be tested and Ron was the guinea pig.” The corner of her mouth twitched and she looked up at him, seeing that he was now sat forward with his arms on the table and watching her closely.

“After Ron, I started dating Blaise. I knew of his reputation and so I wasn’t surprised when we had been together all of two weeks and he broke up with me for someone that was prettier than me and had more money than me. After I graduated Hogwarts I went into the Auror training programme and I met Terrence. Terrence was different to the others I had dated. He could make me blush, which is a very difficult thing seeing as much doesn’t embarrass me anymore.” She saw his mouth twitch at the revelation since he was able to make her blush and he did all the time. “He was kind to me, he didn’t insult me, he didn’t make fun of my love for books or my wish to help all beings and creatures. Or at least, that’s what I had thought. I overheard him once, gloating to the other trainees about how he was screwing _The_ Hermione Granger, about how he had me wrapped around his finger and I would do anything he asked of me, as if I were his little lap dog. I hexed his tongue onto his arse for two weeks.”

He couldn’t help it, he started laughing.

“I received a warning and if I acted unprofessionally again, I would be removed from the training programme. Though Kingsley found out why I had done it and he made sure that the trainers were harder on Terrence than they were everyone else. The Order of Phoenix is a family, when you go through a war together, when you fight side by side, it creates a bond. A lot of the Order members are the godparents for other members’ children, so we look out for each other if we can. After my last three relationships I stayed away from men for a while. It was close to two years after I had graduated from the Auror training programme and I quickly worked my way up through the ranks. I was twenty-one when my department was created and I was made the Head of Department and I was given my own team of Aurors and recruits to train. I met Ryan,” she saw Dean tense at the name, obviously remembering Mimsy’s bad reaction to him.

“I believed Ryan to be a truly kind-hearted person. He would show up at my office with flowers and my favourite candies from Honeydukes and he would arrange surprise meals and pick me up from my office and take me for lunch or dinner, depending on how late I was working that night. I believed myself to have fallen in love with him and after I told him, he changed. He was more demanding of me, if I wasn’t at my apartment by the time I said I would be, he would accuse me of cheating on him. We fought all the time, and although he was cruel with his words, he never once hurt me. Until he did.” She saw Dean grip the table in anger and fury shone in his eyes. “We had gone out drinking with my friends, Ryan had far too much to drink and when he saw Harry and I dancing and laughing together, he lost it. He grabbed me and dragged me out of the building. Harry followed and I don’t remember much but Harry ended up with a bust lip and Ryan a black eye. I apparated Ryan home and he started on me. We argued and I was screaming at him, and he pushed me. I fell down the stairs. I broke my arm, several ribs and my back and stomach were covered in bruises. Ryan was arrested but the charges never stuck, he had a lawyer that owed him a favour and he was released without charge.”

“When I turned twenty-two, I met Adrian after a Quidditch match since his team had been playing against Ginny’s. And even though Ginny’s team lost to him, we went out to celebrate because it was a good match with only ten points between them. Adrian was there and before I knew it, he had charmed his way into my knickers. We didn’t see much of each other since he was always at training or games. We only really interacted when he contacted me, and I was basically a booty call, but I will give him this, he didn’t sleep with anyone but me and when we were together, he treated me well. We broke up about three months later, which I believe is a record for Adrian, he rarely keeps girlfriends, only one night stands. A year later I met Theo through work, he’s an Unspeakable and my department was working alongside the Department of Mysteries on a project. We got along fairly well, he was academically inclined, just as I was, he was only two places behind me in school and so we never ran out of topics to talk about, he was distant though and he had his own problems. His father was Thoros Nott, one of the men that you killed for torturing me at the warehouse.” His hands gripped the table once more and his nose flared. “Theo wasn’t anything like his father and he suffered so much abuse under his care that it’s left Theo closed off and he had so many barriers up, he pushed me away when I got too close to him. He cheated on me because he knew it was the only way I would leave him.”

“I met Jamie when I was twenty-four and we met at the annual celebration ball that commemorates the Final Battle and those that we lost. We dated and we spoke about settling down together, buying a house and dog, but Jamie said he wanted to pay for half of everything and he couldn’t afford it without a promotion.” Dean quickly caught on to what she was about to say. “I put in a good word for him with the Head of the Department for Runes and Symbols, and since I was not only a Department Head myself at the age of twenty-four, a famous war heroine and academically known, I was also an established Spell Creator by this point, my words held a lot of sway. A week later Jamie was made the Deputy Head of the Department and he broke up with me the next day. When I was twenty-five I met Nathan. We dated for three months and when I wouldn’t loan him any money for the business he wished to set up, he broke up with me.” She fell silent, staring at a stain on the table.

She looked up and he was staring at her, emotions were flying through his eyes so quickly she couldn’t keep up to identify them.

“I allowed them to take advantage of me because I couldn’t see what they were doing until it was too late. They were using me to get what they wanted, job promotions, money, fame, sex, but I was blind to it. I wanted to believe that they didn’t care for my money or fame or achievements, I wanted to believe that they actually did care for me. I was so tired after the war, I just wanted someone to care for me, to look after me the way I did others. I was always the strong the one, I was always the one looking out for the others. I made sure they did their homework, I made sure they slept and ate, I made sure they were warm and I kept them alive for seven years. Even when they were mad at me for something stupid, or they insulted me or they were mean to me, I took everything in stride and I kept them as safe as I could given the times we were in,” she sighed and drank the last of the beer, before moving onto the second one.

“Who was after your last one?” He asked her.

“Just you.”

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you, right?” She looked up at him. “I know I can be dick, but I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me like they did.” She confirmed. “You don’t care for my fame or my achievements, you don’t care for my money and now you don’t care that I’m a witch. You wouldn’t hurt me because not only would you face my wand, you’d have a pissed off Harry Potter and The Weasley clan after you, as well as, Bobby and my Guardian Angel.”

“Sam wouldn’t be too happy either,” he added.

“No, I don’t think he would be. You have nothing to worry about, I may have had abysmal taste in men for my past relationships, but you’re not them. Even with your teasing insults, your amusement at anything that annoys me and your wrongful behaviour when we first met, you still treat me better than the others,” she shrugged.

“I still don’t understand why you stayed with these men.”

“Now that they’re out of my life, I don’t either. But as I said before, I wanted someone to take care of me, since I was always the one taking care of others. I was seeing all of my friends and family, falling in love, getting married and settling down, having kids. I wanted what they had, but I can never have that.”

“Why not?” He asked with a frown.

“Not tonight, Dean,” she sighed, running a hand over her face. “I’ve revealed more about myself tonight than I ever have with anyone, and I can’t talk about it now. Maybe someday I’ll tell you, if we’re still together, but I can’t tell you now.”

He nodded and didn’t like the way she suddenly looked exhausted and vulnerable. She was never vulnerable. She was strong and kind and beautiful. He stood and moved to her side of the booth, sliding in next to her.

“What are you doing?”

“You look like you need a hug,” he replied shrugging. She smiled at him softly and willingly went to him when he pulled her into him.

They pulled back and she pulled her feet up onto the seat and then leaned her head against his shoulder, whilst he kept his arm around her shoulder. They sat in silence watching the other patrons sitting at the bar, playing pool and laughing and drinking in booths.

“Why did I have to be the janitor?” They heard a grumble and Sam suddenly appeared and he sat down in the seat Dean had vacated. He had taken off his coveralls leaving him in his t-shirt, jacket and jeans. He raised an eyebrow at their current positions but neither of them replied nor moved.

“I called the PE teacher and the students won’t have taken to you the way they have Glinda,” Dean shrugged and she rolled her eyes at the awful name.

“Did you find anything?” Hermione asked.

“No,” he shook his head. “There was no evidence of a demon or a spirit. If it weren’t for the fact there’s been seven victims, I would think the school was perfectly normal.”

“We’ve gone through your findings and we both agree that this seems personal.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but we need something to narrow down the pool of suspects.”

“Did you check their lockers? There could be something in there that’s useful,” Hermione asked.

Dean snorted at the look on Sam’s face, showing he obviously didn’t check the lockers. “Why didn’t you think of that? It is something we’d do,” he pointed out amused.

“Shut up,” Sam grumbled. “I’ll do it tomorrow; I have the late shift again.”

Hermione picked up her beaded bag and rummaged through it, pulling out some money and handing it to Sam. He looked confused and then counted it and seeing there was one hundred dollars he smirked.

“How long did he last?”

“Till the lunch bell,” she grumbled and Sam laughed victoriously.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

Sam drove them back to the motel since Hermione and Dean had both had more to drink, though they weren’t exactly drunk so they should be hangover-free the next morning. They stepped out of the car and headed up the metal staircase to their rooms.

“Why aren’t you going with Hermione?” Sam asked as Dean stood next to him waiting for him to open the door, and Hermione was opening her own room beside them.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Dean shrugged, and Sam had to give it to him, he honestly looked confused.

“You do realise how thin the walls are, don’t you?” He asked.

They both stiffened. Hermione dropped her beaded bag in shock and she and Dean looked at each other, before their eyes shot to Sam.

“What do you know?” Dean asked, trying to keep his face passive but it was hard given the situation.

“I know that the walls are very thin,” he pointedly looked at the both of them.

“How long have you known?” Hermione asked.

“I’ve had my suspicions that there was something going on between the two of you for a while now, though my suspicions were confirmed last night, and given the conversation I overheard, I’m guessing it’s not the first time you’ve slept together.” They eyed each other, Sam was Dean’s brother; it was his choice if he revealed their secret. “Just out of curiosity, how long have you been sleeping together?”

“Since the night we exercised the demon,” Dean answered, waiting for his reaction.

Sam snorted. “The night you planned the deaths of twenty-three men you mean,” he corrected. “It makes sense, you were a lot more joyful when I saw you the next morning,” he smirked. He then looked between the two of them and nodded to himself.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Hermione asked him.

“Not really,” Sam shrugged. “Though now I have to be more careful when I enter the room, in case I walk in on something,” he smirked. Hermione glared at him and he smiled sweetly. “Is this the reason why you decided to come with us?”

She sighed. “Partially, besides Dean and my friendship with you and Bobby, I came with you because it gives me the opportunity to learn something new and to experience something I normally wouldn’t, as well as building a bridge between Hunters and the Wizarding World and hopefully it will aid in preventing the killings of my kind.”

They both blinked, before she picked up her beaded bag and walked into her room. Dean glanced between the two doors and Sam rolled her eyes.

“You and I both know you’ll try to sneak out later, there’s no point, you would rather be in her room than ours, just go.”

Dean didn’t respond, he just walked to Hermione’s door and opened it since she hadn’t yet locked it. As Dean stepped inside, Sam spoke,

“Be mindful of your neighbours!” He called laughing and he heard Hermione cursing him and Dean’s grumbles before the door shut.

“Your brother is a menace,” Hermione scowled as she took off her jacket and hung it over the chair at the table.

“I say, seeing as we’re teaches, we teach him a lesson.”

She turned around and arched her brow at him. “And what exactly did you have in mind, Mr. Chester?”

He smirked at her. “Well, Miss. Hart,” he stalked towards her and she walked backwards until her back hit the wall. He caged her in with his arms on either side of her head, looking down at her with a devilish smile on his face, making her insides squirm and her knees weak. “Sammy’s an auditory learner,” was all he said before his mouth claimed hers, his hands gripped her hips and he took her breath away.

When she pulled back for air, she was surprised to find that her legs were around his hips and he was crushing her against the wall, she couldn’t even remember it happening.

His hands gripped her top and pulled it over her head, dropping it to the floor and her hands did the same to him, pushing his leather jacket off his shoulders and his t-shirt quickly followed. Her hands trailed his shoulders and ran down his chest, her fingers tickling him and making him shiver.

His hands moved away from her breasts and came up to her hair, untying the bobble and allowing her curls to fall free of their restraint, spilling over her shoulders. He buried his hands in the riotous curls and was determined to give Hermione the ‘well fucked’ look. Her curls tangled around his fingers and he pulled her mouth back to his, while his hips circled and pushed against her clothed centre.

His hands slipped between them and undone the button and zip, his hand finding their way into her underwear. She gasped into his mouth when he caressed her slick folds, before two fingers found their way to her entrance and his thumb found her nub. She moaned into his mouth as he brought her towards the edge.

His mouth pulled back from hers and found its way to her neck, nibbling and sucking, before moving lower. His tongue darting out to trace along the scar on her throat and down to her Dolohov scar. He looked up at her with a smirk on his face when he saw her head titled back, her eyes closed and her mouth parted as she moaned and panted. He could feel her pulsing around his fingers and her nails were beginning to sharpen, he could tell she was going to pierce his skin.

He hiked her further up his body and his head ducked down, nudging aside her bra to take a nipple in his mouth. She gave a breathy moan and her hips rocked faster against his hand. A purr was pulled from her chest and her head fell back as her walls clamped down onto his fingers and tried to pull him in further. She slumped against him and he removed his hand from her knickers to better support her, whilst feeling rather pleased with himself.

Apparently they had been louder than they thought as there was a sudden banging on the wall behind them.

“Use a Silencing Charm!” Sam’s voice carried through to their room. “I’m trying to sleep and I don’t particularly want to hear what you’re up to, I had enough of that this morning. If I have to shoot the pair of you, I will.”

They looked at each other and Hermione laughed. “I think he’s learned his lesson,” she mused, unwrapping her legs from his hips and sliding down the front of his body until her feet hit the ground.

She saw his eyes darken further and he breathed in deeply when she kneeled down to pick up her fallen wand. She stood up and cast a _Silencio_ around the room and then she put her hands on Dean’s chest and pushed him back until his knees hit the bed and he sat down. He looked up at her and she smirked down at him.

Before he could blink she dropped down onto her knees before him and she flicked her wand, divesting him of the rest of his clothes. He blinked in surprise and shivered at the sudden coldness that hit him. He didn’t look embarrassed in his current nudity, and especially not by his erection which was standing proudly for her view.

“Why didn’t you do that before?” He all but pouted at her and she chuckled at him.

Placing her wand on the ground, his breath hitched when she took him in her hand and lightly stroked him, his eyes darkened and he looked down at her.

“I must say, you’ve been remarkably good today, I think it’s time for your reward.”

Before he could speak, she ducked her head and ran her tongue over the underside of his length, her tongue dipping into the slit to swipe at the seeping liquid, before lightly sucking his head. He groaned loudly and his hands fisted the sheets on the bed.

She teasingly took more of him into her mouth, before pulling back, swirling her tongue over him, repeating it over and over and over again. And when he wasn’t expecting it, she took as much of him as she could in his mouth and sucked harshly, whilst her hand worked on what she couldn’t fit. He cursed and his hands flew up to her hair, tangling in her riotous curls and tugging. She made a sound of surprise at the pained pleasure feeling and he groaned as the vibrations ran through him.

She decided it was time to show him how she was able to tie a cherry stalk with her tongue. She looked up at him under her lashes. His breathing was coming out in pants and he bit his lip harshly, his face had flushed and sweat was forming on his body. When he caught her watching him, his hands tugged at her hair and she hummed, sucking harder, her free hand moved from his thigh and found purchase at his balls.

He tried to warn her, but she didn’t listen and when he cursed loudly and stiffened, she swallowed before sitting back, her hands resting on his thighs.

His hands remained in her hair, tangled in her curls and he tried to control his breathing, whilst he stared at her as though he wanted to devour her.

“So, Mr. Chester, did you enjoy your reward?” She asked innocently.

She squeaked when she was pulled up onto the bed and he hovered over her, staring down at her with dark eyes. She watched as he slowly moved down her body and removed her shoes and socks, throwing them behind him, her trousers and underwear quickly following, leaving her as naked as him.

He moved down her body, pressing kisses and nipping at her skin, until he reached her centre and used his talented tongue for more than talking. He had her purring in no time and her claws made an appearance, digging into his shoulders as he lapped up her release.

As he moved up her, she could feel that he had recovered rather quickly as his erection bumped her centre and she whimpered and wriggled beneath him. He took her hands and pinned them to the bed as she tilted her hips up to receive him and he sunk into her. They both let out noises of pleasure and they both sighed in content afterwards. With his dark eyes locked onto her glowing feline ones, he started with a slow pace with deep thrusts gradually building up his speed.

Hermione not happy with the pace, wrapped her legs tightly around him and rolled them over. She sat up and he followed her, wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her against him with every thrust of his hips. Her hands wound around his neck and her nails dug into him. He angled his hips differently and she purred, he did it a few more times and she suddenly clamped down around him, pulling him further into her and tightening so much, it was borderline painful. Her nails raked down his back, drawing blood and adding to his collection of marks from her. She purred his name against his ear and his breath caught and he muttered her name into her neck, as she pulled his release from him.

She slumped against him, resting her forehead against his; the only sounds were of their heavy breathing.

“I’m exhausted,” she sighed, now running her hands through his hair comfortingly.

“Me too,” he said, pulling back to look into her now chocolate brown eyes.

“You should really let me take a look at your back. If you don’t you risk the chance of it becoming infected and your immune system has weakened due to your magical tattoo, it won’t be able to fight off the infection as it would’ve before.”

In all honesty, he didn’t want her to look at it. He rather liked the idea that he was able to draw that out of her. He liked the idea that only he had his back dripping with blood and covered in scratch marks as though he had gotten into a fight with a tiger, and he knew the state his back was in since he had seen it in the mirror. He wanted it to scar, he wanted her to leave permanent marks on him. He wanted everyone to see what he did to her, how he affected her. That only he could and would have her. That she was his.

Seeing the look on his face she sighed. “Fine, will you at least let me siphon away the blood and apply some cream to speed up the healing process? I only changed these sheets last night and Mittens won’t be happy that he has to try to remove blood stains from the sheets, for the third time in a week.”

He relented and she shuffled off him, grabbing her wand from the floor and moving to sit behind him. Her eyes widened at what she saw. His back looked to have been shredded by an actual cat, the claw marks deep enough that she had not only drawn blood, but that it leaked down his back. Most of his back was covered, including just below his neck. The small of his back was the least affected and she could see scratch marks on his shoulders and smaller cuts on his arms where she’d dug her nails in.

“Merlin, what have I done to you?” She had thought she said it in her mind, but it turns out she said it out loud.

“I know, talk about marking your territory,” he spoke with an amused smile, looking over his shoulder at her. His smile dropped when he saw that she looked horrified, truly horrified.

“What is it?” He frowned.

She looked up at him. “I hurt you, I swore that I would never hurt you and I have.”

Before she could blink, he had pulled her down onto her back and he was hovering over her, looking down at her.

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“Tell that to your back,” she glared at him.

He sighed. “Listen, Sweetheart, you didn’t and don’t hurt me. It’s not your fault, from what you told me it’s a side effect from what happened to you years ago, so you can’t help it. Believe it or not, a lot of men like it when a woman scratches their back during sex, even more so when it breaks the skin. So not only are you not to blame, I like it when you do it.”

“Why?” She frowned.

“Like you said, I’m the only man to make you purr and I’m the only man that you’ve grown claws for, meaning I’m the only man that’s able to get that reaction out of you.”

“That’s not all you do,” she muttered, looking away from him.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” she blushed bright red, meaning it was something that embarrassed her.

“Judging by the way you suddenly look like you’ve been spray painted red, I’d say it’s definitely something. You might as well tell me, I’ll only get it out of you later, so let’s save us the time and the hassle.”

She sighed and her eyes wouldn’t look at him “You’re the only man to make me orgasm,” she confessed quietly.

“Seriously?” He spluttered in surprise. She nodded. “How many men have you been with again?”

“Nine including you, though I didn’t sleep with all of them.”

His hand found its way to her chin and he tipped her head slightly so she looked at him.

“You’re telling me that you dated eight men and they were all terrible in bed?”

“They weren’t terrible,” she said, feeling the need to defend them, even if they were awful to her during their relationship. “Back in Wizarding Britain, Adrian is known as ‘The Sinful Slytherin’ and Blaise is known as ‘The Italian Stallion.’ They weren’t given those names for no reason, believe me, Adrian knew exactly how to use what God had given him, but no matter what he did or tried, he was never able to get me to that point, none of them were. I think it’s partially part of the reason they were awful to me. I thought I was broken, Ron always brought it up whenever he found out about my relationships, even now, he still blames me for our break up, even though he was the one that cheated on me, it was seven years ago and he has two kids to different women.” He frowned down at her, a protective look flashing through his eyes at her words. “Can we stop talking about this now?” She asked, looking tired, but relieved. He nodded. “Good, if we shower now we won’t have to in the morning.”

“We?” He asked, his mouth quirking.

“Well, if you can keep your hands to yourself.”

“Sweetheart, you and I both know that’s not going to happen,” he smirked down at her.

“You know, I quite like you calling me that,” she mused.

“What? Sweetheart?”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “It’s a lot better than Glinda, it used to sound mocking when you said it before, now it doesn’t,” she shrugged. Her eyes landed on his new tattoo and her finger came up to trace it. “I should be able to feed my magic into the runes now, since it’s been a few days,” she informed him.

“Will it hurt?”

“No, as far as I’m aware you won’t even know I’m doing it.”

“Alright, we’ll shower first and then you can do your witchy magic.”

~000~000~000~

After yet another pleasurable shower, Hermione and Dean dried off and readied for bed. Hermione magically drying their hair and she dressed in a pair of black underwear and to keep Dean from complaining, she stole his t-shirt, which he was more than happy with as he eyed her possessively. Hermione summoned his duffle bag from the room next door, and Dean pulled out a pair of clean boxers and dressed in only them.

They both climbed into bed and Hermione sat in front of him with her wand in her hand. With a nod from him, she lifted her wand and gently rested the tip against his tattoo. He watched her face as a concentrated frown appeared and she muttered under her breath.

He shivered and held in a gasp when he suddenly felt as though fire had engulfed him. But it was odd, it didn’t hurt him, in fact, it felt as though flames were licking at his skin and not only did it tickle, it felt comforting and warm and safe.

Sweat was beginning to form on her forehead and he frowned when her eyes started blinking tiredly. It was ten minutes later when she pulled her wand back from him and the sensation he had gotten used to vanished, leaving him feeling cold and lonely.

He pulled her to him and laid down, pulling the blanket over them and getting comfortable.

“Is it done?”

“Partially,” she spoke tiredly, snuggling into him and his warmth further like a sleepy kitten. “It’s a tiring process and I have to be careful that I don’t put too much of my magic into the runes at once, it'll drain me and I could end up in a magically exhausted coma.”

Worry and fear filled him at her words. “Why?”

“My magic is what keeps me alive and allows me to function, it’s essentially my life force. I’m taking some of my life force and melding it with the magical ink in your tattoo in order to activate the protection runes. I have put some magic into them so they should be active, but in the morning I will put a little more of my magic into them and they will be as strong as I can get them for now. Over time I should be able to place more magic into the runes to make them stronger. The runes will only protect you from some minor curses, hexes, jinxes and charms, but it’s better than nothing. If we have time, I’ll test their capability in the morning and I’ll start adding my magic into Sam’s tattoo whilst I’m at it.”

“If it’s going to put you in a coma you can forget it,” he said, his tone holding no room for argument.

“It won’t, as long as I don’t push myself I’ll be okay, and once I’ve eaten and taken an Invigoration Draught, I’ll be fine for school,” she shrugged. “Right now, I just need sleep.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

“Morning,” Dean muttered against her neck as he woke up. She shifted in his hold and his arms tightened around her.

“Morning,” she said sleepily. “I’m hungry.”

He snorted at her. “How do you eat so much food?”

“The same way as everyone else, I put it in my mouth, I chew it and then I swallow it.”

He nipped at her neck for being a smart arse and she yelped in surprise, turning her head to scowl at him. She sighed when she saw his innocent expression, yeah, she had seen that look multiple times before, growing up with The Weasley Twins taught her a lot.

“What do you want for breakfast?” He shrugged. “I think I want some cereal for a change and I should have some in my bag, along with milk.”

“I could eat cereal,” he nodded.

“Alright,” she moved out of his hold and climbed out of bed, stretching her arms above her head and she saw Dean’s eyes flash lustfully as her t-shirt rode up. She found her beaded bag and pulled out the cereal and milk, placing it on the table.

“Tupper,” Hermione called softly.

“Mistress call for Tupper,” the house-elf bowed and Dean jumped when he appeared. This house-elf wore a white shirt and black trousers, with a black apron tied around his waist. He had pointy ears and large blue eyes, his skin a light green colour.

“Good morning, Tupper,” Hermione smiled. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, Mistress, Tupper happy he serves Mistress,” he said, his eyes watering.

“I’m happy you decided to join the family.”

Tupper started sobbing and he threw himself at Hermione, wrapping his arms around her legs and Hermione bent down and hugged him. Hermione comforted him until he pulled back and wiped at his eyes.

“What can Tupper do for Mistress?” He asked.

“Can you please bring me some bowls and spoons, as well as a cup of tea and some coffee for both Dean and Sam?”

“Yes, Mistress, Tupper knows how to makes it to their likings,” he said proudly and she smiled at him.

He turned to Dean, who had now climbed out of bed and was making his way over to Hermione. “You be the Mr. Dean?” He asked, scrutinizing him.

“That’s me,” Dean replied, wrapping his arms around Hermione and pulling her against him.

Tupper nodded. “Mimsy said you be a goods man, you not hurt my Mistress.”

Dean wasn’t sure if it was a threat or a statement, but the house-elf disappeared, reappearing momentarily with what Hermione asked for.

She thanked Tupper and sent him on his way, placing a Stasis Charm over Sam’s coffee, she prepared the cereal and they sat at the table and began eating.

“What’s his story?” Dean asked, and he was surprised when she beamed at him.

“Tupper, he’s been with me for nearly a year. I came across him when I was asked to help with a gnome infestation case, seeing as the RCMC Department was low on personnel due to illness and an increase in cases. He was being chased by a pack of dogs, if they would’ve caught him, they’d have mauled him to death.”

Dean frowned. “Why was he being chased?”

“It was punishment; he accidentally tripped over a corner of the carpet and spilt water over his previous Master. The dogs hadn’t been fed for five days either, Tupper was forbidden from using his elfin magic to escape. If he could outrun the dogs, he got to survive another day, if not, he was eaten alive. The previous Master was imprisoned due to the dark magical artefacts that were found in his house. The dogs were put down since they were dying from disease and malnutrition. Tupper was the only house-elf on the property. I healed his injuries and he’s been with me since.”

“Are all wizards and witches awful to house-elves?”

“No, but some are.”

“I guess they’re lucky they have you to care for them,” he said softly.

“I will help anyone that needs it, whether they want me to or not, if you need help and I have the ability to do so, then I will. I can’t stand by and watch someone suffer.”

They fell silent and after finishing their breakfast, Hermione stood and walked around the table to Dean. She had intended to lean against the table whilst she finished adding her magic to his tattoo, but he grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap. She just shook her head at him and then did as she intended.

Dean sighed happily when he felt flames once more licking at his skin, warming him from the inside out and surrounding him with comfort and safety. She spent ten minutes working at his tattoo before she stopped and he noticed that she didn’t appear to be as exhausted as the last time.

“Sam’s still probably asleep since he hasn’t been knocking on the door,” she spoke, “Or walls,” she added, making them both laugh. She got the cereal, milk and coffee and sent them all to his room for when he woke. “We better get ready, we’re due at the school in forty minutes.”

She climbed off his lap and disappeared into the bathroom, emerging after brushing her teeth and pulling her hair into a ponytail. She walked to the wardrobe and pulled out another black pencil skirt, a pale pink long-sleeved shirt and she quickly dressed, well aware of the fact Dean’s eyes were on her.

She dug around in her beaded bag and pulled out a nude pair of heels and slipped them onto her feet, before putting on her glasses. When she turned around, Dean was dressed similarly to the previous day, only he wore light grey shorts and a light grey jacket, with a white t-shirt. She stared at him in appreciation, since he was doing the same to her.

“We have time,” his voice came out husky and she looked into his green eyes, slowly darkening and filling with lust.

“No, we don’t,” she sighed. “We better go, hopefully, we’ll learn more today.”

~000~000~000~

“Good morning, everyone,” Hermione said, as her senior class sat in their seats and faced her.

“Morning, Miss. Hart,” the class chorused making Hermione smile, even if the boys seemed more enthusiastic than the girls.

“Now that we know each other better, I hope it will encourage you to help your classmates with their projects if they look as though they are struggling. For example, Blake, if Jamie is to argue that football is the worst sport to exist, it would beneficial to Jamie if you were to explain any negative factors that surround the sport. And, Jennifer, if you were to argue that Desperate Housewives is the best TV programme on air, Mary might be able to say, well actually I don’t like it because...Or I prefer this because...This way you can prepare for anyone to disagree with you and you may be able to have an answer ready that will persuade them otherwise. Okay?” They nodded.

“Brilliant, I hope that you have all done at least some research as we will be starting your projects today, I have no idea how long I will be here so I would like them to be completed as soon as possible, so that we may get through them all. In the cupboard at the back of the room, you will find that I have stocked it with everything you need, from different coloured and sized paper and card, as well as glue sticks, pencils and coloured felt pens. You may talk amongst yourselves, as long as we keep the noise level in the room down. If you require any help or wish for my opinion on something, just let me know, otherwise, you may begin your projects.”

Hermione returned to her seat and watched as the students pushed their desks closer together and they retrieved what they wished from the cupboard and began working.

Every so often Hermione would look up at the class to see that they were all getting on with their tasks, but talking quietly, and she looked back down at the pile of information Sam had found on the victims, going over everything to try and find a connection.

“Miss. Hart?”

She looked up, seeing that Blake had raised his hand.

“Yes, Blake, what can I help you with?” She smiled, standing up and walking over to him and a few of his friends.

“I wish to argue that football is the best sport.”

“Okay,” she nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“I want to write a speech but I can’t get the wording or the structure right.”

“What you should do is make a bullet point list of all of the points you wish to make first, this way you can’t miss any out of your speech. Write up a quick rough draft and then I’ll take a look at it for you, and I’ll try to help you with the structuring of the speech. Are you going to have a visual aspect?”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” he frowned slightly. “Do you think I should?”

“A speech is a great start, but if you wish to keep your classmates’ attention on you and to listen to what you have to say, you need something to catch their eye. It could just be a piece of card with a few photos of your favourite NFL players. You’ll get higher marks with a visual aid,” she told him and he looked surprised. “This part of the curriculum is fairly easy as long as you do the research and you remember to cite your sources, if possible. I’m sure one of the girls will be able to help you with the visual aspect. Alright?” He nodded. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I’m fine, Miss. Hart,” he grinned at her.

She smiled at him and his friends before deciding to walk around the classroom to see if anyone else needed help.

“And what are you working on, Jordan?” She asked, stopping beside his desk. He looked up from the three books he had open. He blushed.

“I wish to convince everyone that _The Lord of the Rings_ is the best fantasy series.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“I’m going to explain the plotline through a speech, include the visual aid of pictures and use jokes and puns.”

She hummed. “Have you thought of maybe making a powerpoint presentation instead, this way your visual aid can be that of video clips from the movies, which is more likely to gain the attention of your classmates?”

“I’m allowed to do that?”

“You are, yes,” she confirmed and she made to turn away.

“Miss. Hart?” She turned around. “Have you really read the books?”

“Is Sauron the main antagonist?” She asked, his blush darkened and she walked away, continuing on her way around the classroom.

She stopped at a desk in the back left of the room where a girl with red hair and green eyes hidden behind glasses sat. She stopped beside her and looked down at the book on the desk.

“ _The Great Gatsby_ ,” Hermione said, making the student look up, it was Jane. “I haven’t read that since I was I fifteen. Do you wish to argue that it’s the best novel written?”

“No,” she replied, looking back down and continuing with her writing.

“No?” Hermione frowned. “Then why do you have it?”

“We have to analyse it for Mr. Wellers as part of the curriculum.”

“Jane, I am sorry to say I am not comfortable with allowing you to continue with your analysis whilst I am your teacher. I have looked through Mr. Wellers plans and they were very particular, and I do not wish to invade on this set project. I must ask that you put it away and you begin with the project I have set you. You may continue with your analysis outside of this classroom, but I need you to make a start on this project.”

Jane stared at her defiantly. “I need to finish Mr. Wellers’ project.”

Hermione sighed. “You leave me no choice, Jane.”

Hermione picked up the book and the essay from the desk and walked back over to hers. By this point, the entire classroom had fallen silent and they were staring between the two of them.

“What are you doing?” She demanded, standing up angrily.

“I am confiscating your essay, you may have it back at the end of the day,” she placed it into the top drawer of her desk and sat down in her seat. “Please take your seat and begin your project.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do, you’re not even a proper teacher, you’re just a substitute and your assigned project is ridiculous.”

Everyone looked to Hermione, but to their surprise, she looked calm, too calm.

“Upon my arrival here, I spoke in great lengths with Principal Walters regarding each of my classes. It was agreed upon by him, that I was to give you another project for you to complete until Mr. Wellers is well enough to return. This project is a part of the curriculum and I may have altered it slightly to make it more enjoyable for you, but it is still within the guidelines set. If. Mr Wellers returns before it is completed, he will continue it with you. And whilst I am in this classroom and employed by this school, I am your teacher.” Hermione pulled out a slip from one of the drawers and began filling it out. “Jane, you have not only insulted me, but you have questioned my authority in this classroom and disrupted the learning environment for your peers. Please collect your belongings and go to the principal’s office.”

Everyone stared as Jane glared furiously; she picked up her backpack and coat and walked out of the room.

Hermione looked at the clock on the wall and sighed, there was still forty-five minutes of the lesson left and she was starving. She pulled open the bottom drawer and pulled out a packet of biscuits.

“Would anyone care for a biscuit?” She asked, they stared at her in surprise, but one by one, they all came to her desk to take one from the packet.

“For what it’s worth, Miss. Hart, I think you’re the best teacher we’ve had.”

“Thank you, Blake, that’s kind of you to say. Now, you better get on with that speech.”

He grinned before turning and waltzing back to his desk.

It was five minutes before the bell when she heard a girl arguing with a few boys. She looked up seeing that Melissa, the cheerleader, looked less than impressed, but she turned to face Hermione.

“Miss. Hart?”

“Yes, Melissa?” Hermione smiled.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” She turned and glared at the boys behind her and Hermione’s lip twitched.

Well she had Dean, and he was technically her boyfriend, wasn’t he?

“Yes, Melissa, I do,” she replied and the boys grumbled and slouched in their seats.

“Is he cute?” She asked curiously.

“He’s very handsome, yes.”

“Do you have a photo?”

“I’m afraid I don’t, and I don’t want to give Principle Walters grounds for disciplinary action for being unprofessional in the classroom, so please, no more questions about my private life.”

~000~000~000~

It was the last lesson of the day and Dean was exhausted, he couldn’t wait until he could leave and go back to the motel, where he would sweet-talk a certain curly-haired witch into falling into bed with him.

He still had yet to learn anything that would help with the case, so he spent most of his time with the hormonal teenagers playing dodgeball or in his office flicking through a magazine or newspaper, unable to think of anything else other than his curly-haired witch.

He heard giggling from behind him and he turned his head to see the senior class lined up, whilst the girls were batting their eyelashes at him and staring. He was currently squatting, taking the dodgeballs out of the bag. He had lost his jacket the previous lesson, leaving him in his t-shirt which stretched and moulded to his frame, showing off his well-defined physique, and he knew his shorts were a little on the tight side, meaning they had likely been staring at his arse, too.

“Okay,” he said, standing up and clapping his hands to gain their attention. “Today is simple, you play dodgeball, you survive and then we go home. Any questions?”

A girl raised her hand, a cheerleader, he thought.

“Yes?”

“Do you have a girlfriend, Sir?”

Dean’s eyebrow arched and his mouth twitched. Well, he had Hermione. And surprisingly, the thought of her being referred to as his girlfriend was quite pleasing. He was claiming her as his, telling every other guy that may try it on with her to basically fuck off.

“I do,” he confirmed, keeping in his chuckle when he saw the girls deflate and grumble.

“Is she hot?” One of the boys asked.

“Stunning,” he spoke with a smirk. “Now, let’s get to work.” He squatted once more to pull out the rest of the balls from the large bag and when his shirt rode up his back, he heard gasps.

“What happened to your back, Sir?”

He stood up after he had finished emptying the bag and he rolled it up into a ball.

“My girlfriend,” he replied, the girls’ eyes widened and the boys looked stunned. “And that boys, is what happens when you do things right,” he winked at them and walked over to the bleachers chuckling to himself, he knew that if Hermione had been there he would likely have earned himself a slap or two.

Much to his surprise, Hermione turned up at the gym with only twenty minutes of the lesson left. Her heels echoed in the gym and heads turned her way as she made her way over to him, sitting down beside him on the bleachers.

“Aren’t you supposed to have a class of juniors?” Dean asked her with a raised eyebrow. He blew his whistle when he noticed the game had stopped and they continued at the sound.

“We got through everything I needed to and I let them go early,” she shrugged. “As long as they don’t leave school grounds for the next twenty minutes it’s fine. Merlin, my feet are killing me, I can’t wait to get back to the motel.”

“Neither can I,” he muttered, looking at her pointedly and she snorted.

“I would think you’d be well and truly sated after last night.” The look he sent her said otherwise and she rolled her eyes. “I fancy doing something different tonight, what do you think?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, but I want a home-cooked meal, I’ll root through my supplies and see what I can whip up without an oven, after dinner, we could do something though.”

“How about a club?”

“They have those around here?”

“Should do,” he shrugged.

“You’re just jealous over what happened the last time,” she rolled her eyes.

“Twenty-three men,” he muttered and she laughed at him. “And I assure you, it won’t happen again.”

“Alright, I may have to return home for a dress though; hopefully I can be in and out before Mimsy notices.”

“You’re scared of her?” He questioned amused.

“Terrified,” she confirmed and he laughed. “I don’t know what you’re laughing for, if we go our separate ways, Mimsy will blame you whether it’s your fault or not and she’ll hunt you down and maim you.” She snorted at the look of horror on his face. “I best get back to my classroom, I have a few things to sort out before we can leave.” He leaned forward intending to kiss her. She glared at him and he caught himself in time.

“Sorry, forgot where I was for a second,” he ran his hand through his hair.

“Later,” she promised. “You know, I was thinking cherry pie.”

“Cherry pie?” He repeated confused.

“For dessert.”

She smirked at him, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. His eyes caught the gesture and upon realising what she meant his eyes darkened. Cherry stalk!

She chuckled at him and stood and walked out of the gym.

Dean took a few deep breaths before standing and picking up the whistle from around his neck.

“Alright, tidy everything away and then you can get changed!”


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 6

Hermione had told Dean that she would meet him at the club they had searched for on Sam’s laptop. After whipping up a quick lamb curry and eating, she kept some aside for Sam with all the appropriate charms to keep the food from spoiling. She port keyed home and searched through her clothing.

After casting a few cleaning charms over herself she readied for a night of dancing and drinking. She added a small amount of mascara and some sparkly eye shadow and she cast a spell over her hair to make it fall in sleek ringlets. She stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing herself. She wore a black halter top dress with a sweetheart neckline that showed an ample amount of cleavage that wasn’t too slutty. The dress clung to her figure, showing off her natural curves and it stopped at her mid-thigh, making her legs seem longer, along with a pair of strappy silver heels on her feet.

She looked down at her arm and sighed, before digging out her muggle makeup to cover her ‘Mudblood’ scar. All of her other scars she was able to glamour, so they were hidden from view, no one would know they were there except for Dean.

She summoned two Sobriety Potions and two Hangover Potions for good measure and she slipped them into her beaded bag which she disillusioned. She then snuck out of her bedroom so Mimsy wouldn’t hear her and she port-keyed to the club.

She could hear the music coming from inside the club even as she was in the alleyway. She placed a Disillusionment Charm on herself and snuck into the building, when she got in the toilets, she made sure it was clear before she removed the charm and then headed out into the club.

She headed straight for the bar, her eyes searching for Dean and it wasn’t hard to find him. For some reason, she could tell he was there, there was a tugging inside of her and she followed it, and much to her surprise, it led her straight to him.

He was stood at the bar, smiling charmingly at the gaggle of scantily dressed women that surrounded him. Hermione told herself it was not jealously she was feeling, but it was. She knew she was throwing daggers at the women with her eyes, even if she had promised herself she wouldn’t.

She couldn’t help her response. Dean was hers!

As if sensing her presence he turned his head and his eyes locked on to hers. He walked away from the bar and towards her, stopping in front of her and he put his hands on her hips and pulled so she stepped into him. His head lowered and he spoke into her ear,

“Stow your wand, Sweetheart.”

“What?” She said dumbly.

“Put your wand away,” he said. She looked down in horror, seeing that she had unknowingly pulled her wand from her bag. She quickly put it back into her beaded bag.

“This isn’t normal, I wanted to kill them,” she muttered.

He shrugged. “I wanted to kill those men for touching you.”

“That was different, it was business not pleasure.” His hands tightened on her hips and he took a deep breath. “You called me Sweetheart,” she said, looking up at him.

“You said you liked it,” he shrugged. “Let’s get you a drink.”

“Or several, I’m going to need them.”

“Can you deal with a bunch of teenagers and a hangover at the same time?”

“No, so I picked up a few Hangover Potions before I left my apartment,” she replied.

“Is that what you gave me last time?”

“Yes,”

“Those things are brilliant,” he commented and she snorted.

“Don’t be getting used to it; if you use more than one every few weeks, you become immune to it.” He slipped his hand from her hip and to the small of her back, stepping behind her and guiding her to the bar.

They ordered their drinks and they managed to find an empty booth, as they headed to it Hermione could’ve sworn she passed some of her students on the way, but she shook her head.

~000~000~000~

It was two hours later when Hermione and Dean were well on their way to being drunk. They had made their way through the crowd and parted ways, Dean going to get another round of drinks at the bar and Hermione going to the dance floor.

Dean’s eyes were glued to her the entire time, watching as she got lost in the music; her face soft and calm, her sleek curls tumbling down her back and swaying as she moved to the beat, and he couldn’t wait to run his hands through them until they were tangled and untameable. He loved them that way. She had her hands raised above her head as she swayed and circled her hips in time to the beat of the song being played.

When Dean saw several men eyeing her up and more than one man slowly approaching her, he forgot the drinks order he’d paid for and left the bar, quickly making his way through the throng of people.

He reached her just before any of the others could, snaking his arms around her stomach and pulling her back against him and he ducked his head and placed a kiss to her shoulder. She relaxed against him and brought her hands to rest against his on her stomach and he felt when she smiled as he kissed her cheek.

He looked up at the men currently glaring at him and he smirked in return.

“Marked your territory?” She spoke, her eyes still closed. He nipped at her shoulder for her teasing and she laughed. “I was wondering how long it would take you; in all honesty, you lasted longer than I thought you would.”

“So did I,” he admitted and she laughed at him.

“I’m hungry.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

She sunk her nails into his arm and he chuckled as he placed teasing kisses to her shoulder, moving up to her neck and when he reached her weak spot behind her ear, she moaned softly, tilting her head to give him better access.

He took a deep breath and his length twitched at the sound. He was certain he wasn’t going to be able to be patient for much longer and he would get her out of the club and back to the motel so he could make her purr.

He turned her in his arms and claimed her lips, his tongue moving between her lips and meeting hers, whilst his hands found their way into her hair, and hers gripped his leather jacket and pulled him against her. The music disappeared, as did the crowd surrounding them, it was only them.

When Dean felt someone nudge him as they walked past, he remembered where they were and pulled back, his gaze locked on hers and it was dark and heated. He noticed smugly that her hair no longer looked sleek and perfect, but as though someone had recently had their hands in it, and she looked thoroughly kissed, too, with her red lips and lightly flushed skin.

“Let’s go,” he said, not giving her time to argue with him. He took her hand and started pulling her through the crowd.

“How do you expect us to get back?” She shouted over the music. He stopped in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor and turned to frown at her.

“Can you do anything?” He replied.

She blinked a few times before moving closer to him and pulling her beaded bag between them, so no one would see her hand disappearing. She pulled out two potions and handed one to him. She quickly downed it and he watched her before doing the same, gagging at the taste.

“What was that?” He asked, feeling some of the haze that had been surrounding him beginning to fade.

“Sobriety Potion, it removes any trace of alcohol from your system as if you hadn’t been drinking at all. The Hangover Potion is obviously for the day after, but seeing as we’ve taken this we won’t need it; the potion should take effect in a few minutes.”

“I already feel fine,” he shrugged. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to apparate us and you’re not going to like it, but it’s a very quick form of travel and it requires immense focus and control, otherwise I could splinch one of us, splinching is essentially tearing parts of your body off during transportation. You have to be of age and you have to have a license, and just like driving, it’s prohibited from being done drunk due to the dangerous consequences. Now that I’m sober, I can get us back to the motel with no problems.”

He blinked at her before he took her hand and dragged her back through the crowd and towards the exit. She passed that same booth again and she blinked and stopped, making Dean stop, too.

“What now?” He all but pouted and she gestured with her head to look to the left. Dean turned his head and glowered when he saw several of the seniors from both of their classes, sitting in a booth and staring at them in shock.

Dean sighed but refused to let go of her hand as she took the few steps to the booth, stopping in front of it. In the booth sat seven seniors, four boys and three girls. She recognised two of the boys and one of the girls from her English class, the others she could remember seeing in Dean’s class.

“Miss. Hart? Mr. Chester? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Blake,” she replied, looking at them all disapprovingly. “Am I correct in thinking the legal age of drinking is to be twenty-one?”

“You are,” Dean confirmed, smirking in their direction as he wrapped his arm around her waist and his hand rested against her stomach possessively.

“How did you get in here?” She asked them with an arched eyebrow.

“Fake ID’s,” they all muttered, Dean snorted and she elbowed him in the ribs. He chuckled and bent his head, nipping at her shoulder. She jumped and scowled at him and he smiled sweetly.

“She’s your girlfriend?” One of the girls she didn’t recognise spoke in shock.

“Yes,” Dean replied smirking.

“He’s your boyfriend,” Jason, the other boy from her class spoke in shock.

“He is,” she said calmly. “Now that we’re done establishing that, let’s talk about the fact that you are all underage and are currently consuming alcohol in a club you shouldn’t be in, and I don’t doubt you all have homework you need to be doing. I know for a fact three of you have a project that you have asked me to look over tomorrow. How am I supposed to do that when you haven’t done the work? Or when you are absent as you have a hangover?” They looked down in guilt. “We’re leaving now as we have to be at school tomorrow morning, as do you.”

“Are you going to tell the bar staff not to serve us, or security that we’re underage?”

“No, I’m not,” Hermione replied; turning and walking away.

Dean stayed back a little longer, scrutinizing them.

“You should be careful, she may look soft and innocent, but believe me, when she’s riled up she’s far from it,” he looked over his shoulder and down to his back, turning to look at them with a smirk. When they were gawking at him he knew they had understood his meaning after seeing the marks she had left on his back.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to sweet talk Miss. Hart back into the mood, since her desire for me quickly vanished when she saw you. I want to see how many marks she’ll leave tonight.”

The girls had taken a drink at that point and spat their drinks out in shock. He winked at them and then turned to catch up with Hermione.

When they stepped out into the chilly air she shivered and Dean rolled his eyes, shrugging off his leather jacket and handing it to her. She took it gratefully and slipped it on, his eyes darkened when he saw her wearing it and it swamped her small frame.

He took her hand and dragged her down the street and he pulled her into the alleyway, pushing her against the wall and crashing his mouth to hers. His hands gripped at her hips and trailed her sides as hers ran through his hair, gripping the strands.

“You referred to me as your girlfriend,” she muttered against his mouth.

“And you referred to me as your boyfriend,” he replied, pulling back to look at her.

“Does it bother you?” She asked, biting her lip nervously and his eyes zeroed in on the action.

“Surprisingly not. You?”

“Surprisingly not,” she repeated and his mouth crashed back down to hers, pulling her lip from between her teeth so he could nibble at it.

She pushed him away from her when she was breathless and struggled to find her wand. She gripped it in her hand and cleared her thoughts, before taking his hand.

“Take a deep breath, close your eyes and bend your knees. This won’t hurt but it’ll feel strange, as though you’re being squeezed through a tube. When we arrive you’ll feel nauseous so please don’t throw up on me.” Before he could reply she spun on her heel.

They landed in the motel room and Hermione watched in surprise as Dean wobbled on his feet, shook his head and took a few deep breaths, before he turned to her, looking completely fine. He took advantage of her distracted state and tackled her onto the bed.

“How are you completely fine, even us wizarding folk have a hard first few times apparating, particularly when it’s side-along?”

He shrugged in reply, before leaning down to kiss her, making her forget about everything except for him.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 5

“So, did you get into their lockers?” Hermione asked, as she and Dean sat around the table in their room and Sam joined them for breakfast, of which was cereal and coffee from Tupper once again.

“Yes, I was able to get into them all, but before I could look through them, the other janitor would suddenly show up.”

They sniggered at his annoyed facial expression.

“We haven’t really learned anything new either, hopefully, we’ll have better luck today. Now, give me your arm so I can start to infuse my magic into the runes, I’ll do some now and the rest later tonight,” she said.

Dean watched Sam’s reaction and he frowned slightly when he saw that Sam looked curious, but otherwise unaffected, when he had felt flames licking at him. That was strange.

She spent fifteen minutes doing her task and she took an Invigoration Draught afterwards.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to test they worked?” Dean said.

“Yes, it’ll have to be on you since Sam’s aren’t yet completed.”

She had expected him to refuse and glare and curse, instead he merely shrugged and stood up, walking to the middle of the room. She shared a look of surprise with Sam before she stood up and levelled her wand at him.

“ _Rictumsempra_ ,” she whispered, the purple light headed straight for Dean and she shrieked in surprise and ducked, as it rebounded away from him and flew back in her direction, hitting against the wall.

“What was that meant to do?” He asked.

She slowly stood looking at Dean strangely before turning and casting the same jinx on an unsuspecting Sam. He burst out laughing, wriggling in his seat and gripping his sides.

“S-s-stop... it..... tick-l-les,” he managed to get out through his laughter.

She released the jinx and turned to Dean. “Tickling Jinx,” she shrugged.

“You have a spell to tickle people?” He said amused.

“Yes, like I told you, not all wizarding folk are monsters, and dark magic isn’t the only form to exist. _Diffindo_ ,” she said suddenly and the charm rebounded once more, she had to step aside so she wouldn’t get hit.

“And that one?”

“That spell would’ve placed a small cut on you. These are only minor forms of magic, ones first years learn.”

“So why do you look surprised your tattoo worked?” Sam asked confused.

“They’re working _too_ well,” she told them, sitting down in her chair. “Normally protection runes work by reducing the chances of you being injured or trying to reduce the injury if you are hit with a spell. Dean was protected entirely from both of my spells, which isn’t normal. He should’ve still felt the Tickling Jinx, but in a milder form to you, and the _Diffindo_ still should’ve cut him since I put a lot of force behind it. Instead, they rebounded and headed for me, as if he’d been shielded from them by a _Protego_.”

“And that shouldn’t happen?” Dean frowned.

“No, it really shouldn’t of,” she said as she and Dean shared a look, yet another factor to consider in their strange relationship.

“Will it do the same for me?” Sam asked. “I’ve read about how powerful of a witch you are, so maybe that’s why your tattoo protected him the way it did,” Sam shrugged.

“It’s possible, we won’t know if it’s the same for you until I’ve finished infusing my magic into the ink, which we’ll do tonight. And just because I am said to be one of the most powerful witches to exist, doesn’t mean I actually am. Due to my past, achievements and fame, people tend to over-exaggerate my abilities and power.”

Sam looked at her disbelievingly.

~000~000~000~

Hermione and Dean were currently sat in the principal’s office after receiving a message that he wished to speak to them. They were sat in the chairs behind the desk as Principal Walters watched them with his dark blue eyes, and black hair falling into his eyes. Dean just wished he would hurry up and get it over with; they were on their lunch break and he was starving.

“It has come to my attention that the two of you are in a romantic relationship.”

They both stiffened and Hermione dug her nails into Dean’s thigh to stop him from saying anything stupid.

“Is this true?”

“Yes, Dean and I are in a relationship,” Hermione confirmed.

“It is against school policy that two members of staff are to be involved in any relationship, other than one of a professional manner.”

“Principal Walters, we are aware that it is against this particular school’s policy, but before we were assigned here, we were assured that our positions would not be in jeopardy. Our agency is well aware of the fact that Dean and I are in a relationship and we have been for several years, since we met when we both joined the agency. We have never let our relationship spill over into our professional lives and we will not do so now. We are only here until Mr. Wellers and Mr. Harrow return and if they do not, we are still only temporary staff until you are able to find someone to fill the position permanently. For you to either dismiss us or give us disciplinary action would be in violation of our contract, of which you signed.” His eyes widened slightly. “Not all schools have the same policies, especially regarding staff members being involved, but some do and as a safeguard for our positions, the agency has put in a statement and an acceptance clause regarding the both of us being involved. I could give you the number of our supervisor, who will confirm it if you would like.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly and nodded. Hermione took the pen he offered and wrote down the number.

He asked them to wait outside the office and they watched through the window as he picked up the phone and held it to his ear.

“Was all of that true? What you told him?”

“No,” she said, and he blinked at her before laughing.

Principal Walters gestured for them to enter and they took their seats.

He cleared his throat. “I have spoken with your supervisor and they have confirmed all of which you shared with me, they assure me that your relationship is nothing but professional during school hours and that you both have an impeccable record, as well as references. As such, I see no point in taking the matter further. Just keep your relationship professional on the school grounds.”

“Of course, how did you come to learn of our relationship?” Hermione asked.

“A member of staff was approached in the hallways this morning by a student and they explained about your relationship, and so they passed it along to me.”

“I assure you, we have been nothing but professional during school hours, this student likely saw both of us out together after school hours. We have taken to having dinner at the diner close to our motel since we are not here long term.”

“From what I understand, that is a popular place with the students,” he nodded. “Just be careful to keep your relationship professional.”

“We will.”

~000~000~000~

Hermione saw out the last of her students and sat down at her desk, sighing. She was starving and she still had one class left, her seniors.

They entered the classroom and took their seats, Hermione noticed that Jane glared at her before taking her seat at her desk. Hermione greeted the class and asked them to continue working on their projects.

Six students brought a piece of work up to her desk for her to look over, and she did so fairly quickly, amending spelling mistakes and suggesting other words to use in the places of some. She returned the work to each of the students, spending a few minutes to explain the alterations and talking off structure and visual aids, before returning to her desk.

She sat down and began to mark some work from her freshman class. Halfway through the lesson, she was in need of a snack and she opened the bottom drawer to remove the packet of biscuits she had stowed away. As she reached her hand down, her wand which she had hidden in her sleeve, started to buzz against her skin and she frowned.

It only did that when it was around a dark aura and a close one at that. She looked up before opening the middle drawer where she kept her beaded bag disillusioned. She found it and dug around for Bellatrix’s wand, and the moment she did, the wand was humming in pleasure, setting off alarm bells in her head. She used the wand to nudge aside the things in the drawer until she saw it.

It was a strange cloth material which looked to be filled with something, and it was tied together with what looked to be a leather chord. It was slightly bigger than the palm of her hand, but when she went to touch it, her own wand buzzed wildly and Bellatrix’s hummed. It can’t have been good, and although she was curious to know what it was and to take a look, something told her to leave it alone, and to tell Dean. And so she did.

As the bell went to signal the end of the school day, Hermione spoke.

“Blake, please stay behind.” When the class was empty of everyone except them, Hermione spoke. “Blake, did you talk to a member of staff regarding my relationship with Mr. Chester?”

“No, Miss. Hart,” he frowned.

“Are you sure, as Principal Walters asked to see both of us today, regarding a member of staff being told about our relationship?”

“He hasn’t fired you, has he?”

“No, Mr. Chester and I are protected against that for a grounds of dismissal, our agency has been aware of our relationship since the start of it a few years ago. If that weren’t the case, we could’ve both received disciplinary action and been fired.”

“I swear, I didn’t tell anyone, as far as I’m aware, neither have the others. But...”

“But?”

“We were talking about it this morning in the parking lot, so anyone could’ve overheard,” he said, looking guilty.

She nodded. “Alright, Blake, I appreciate your honesty, next time try to be more careful, you may go now.”

He stood from his chair and left the room. Hermione waited a few minutes before leaving after him, heading to the gym. It just so happened that she ran into Dean on the way there.

“I was just coming to find you,” she told him.

He raised an eyebrow and she gestured for him to follow her. When they entered her classroom she shut the door.

“What are we doing here?”

She walked over to the desk and opened the bottom drawer. He frowned at her before moving closer and looking at its contents, when he saw it, his eyes widened.

“What is it?” She asked him.

“It’s a hex bag, fuck! There’s a witch in the school.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

“I am standing right here,” she snorted. His eyes cut to hers and expecting to see humour. She didn’t, she saw worry and anger. “What is it?” She frowned.

“I didn’t mean you; I meant there’s a _witch_ here.”

Her eyes widened slightly and then she nodded in understanding. “That could explain the sudden illnesses and freak accidents.”

“You didn’t touch it did you?” He asked, taking her arms in his hands and pulling her to him, his eyes sweeping over her quickly in search of any injuries or symptoms of illness.

“No,” she shook her head.

He sighed in relief. “We need to get rid of it before it causes you any damage; it was obviously intended for you since it was in your desk. How long has it been there?”

“I don’t know, it wasn’t here this morning, it must’ve been around lunchtime.”

He took off his jacket and folded it, using it to pick up the hex bag and he threw it to the floor. “Can you burn it without setting off the alarms?”

“I don’t see why not,” she frowned in thought, several spells running through her mind as she tried to choose the best one.

She pulled her wand from her sleeve and walked around her desk stopping in front of the hex bag. She cast a Ventilation Charm in the room to immediately clear the smoke and then she set it on fire. The vivid blue flames burst outwards and Dean pulled her back quickly before she could be hurt. Within in seconds, the hex bag was no more, as was Dean’s jacket. She banished the evidence from the ground and turned to face him.

“It’s done.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and speed dialled Sam.

“We’ve got a witch...Hermione found a hex bag in her desk...No she didn’t touch it, she’s fine,” his eyes swept over her face. “We need to get into those kids lockers...We’ll wait for you.” He snapped the phone shut and put it back into his pocket. “Who has access to this room?”

“It would be easier to ask who doesn’t,” she spoke. “From process of elimination, we narrowed it down to having something to do with the seniors. You say it’s a witch, so it must be a senior, too, which would explain the personal feel to the case. I’ve been targeted for a reason; logic says it’s someone from my senior class.”

“You’re not coming back tomorrow, you can call in sick.”

“I don’t bloody well think so,” she scoffed at him, making him angry that she was willingly putting herself in danger. “If we don’t figure out who this is tonight, then I need to observe my students, now that I know what I’m dealing with, I may be able to cast a few diagnostic spells to guide me to the source. You go back to your office and go through the files, see if there’s anything regarding a confrontation between a student and Harrow, I’ll do the same here.” She nodded to the cupboard at the back of the room.

He didn’t look pleased with the idea of leaving her alone.

“Meet me here in half an hour, Sam should be here by then, go on, if anything happens, I am not a witch to be messed with.”

The corner of his mouth twitched before he turned and left.

~000~000~000~

“Did you find anything?” Dean entered the room and she popped her head out of the cupboard.

“Possibly, you?”

“Possibly,” he replied, holding up several files in his hand to show her. She stepped out of the cupboard, also holding several files.

They walked over to her desk and placed the files on the surface, flicking through them and explaining to the other what they had found. They looked up when Sam entered the room.

“So we’re dealing with a witch,” he commented and they nodded. “Is it our witch or yours?” He asked Hermione.

“It’s definitely yours, my kind would never use hex bags; we have wands. And it’s illegal to practice magic underage and outside of school grounds. Although the age of adulthood in my world is seventeen, judging by the time of year, all possible wizarding folk are still in school. Those that are homeschooled have to pass their exams before they are allowed to use magic outside of their homes. If it was my kind, there would be a magical trace that would alert The Ministry to underage wizardry.”

“Just wanted to make sure,” he shrugged. “What’s the next step?”

“We’re going through some files which could be helpful, we need to search their lockers; there could be something useful in there.”

“How did you know not to touch the hex bag?”

“My wand had a bad reaction to it, and Bellatrix’s the opposite, coupled together that told me everything I needed to know,” she shrugged.

“Maybe you should come with me then, in case there’s something hidden.”

“Okay, there’s still students and staff wandering around, I can use a few charms so that people won’t notice us,” she agreed.

“You two go ahead, I’ll stay here and see if there’s any connection between Wellers and Harrow,” Dean spoke.

Hermione cast the charms over herself and Sam and he led the way to Poldark’s locker. Hermione watched amused as he struggled to open it and she pointed her wand and whispered, “ _Alohomora_.”

Sam blinked when he heard a ‘click’ and he was able to pull the locker open. “Why didn’t you do that before?”

“It was amusing, and I’m sure you would’ve gotten there in the end, but the charms on us will wear off eventually,” he scowled and she chuckled.

Hermione’s wand didn’t react to the locker and Sam searched through it, handing her things that she should look through.

“I’ve got something,” Hermione commented, flipping open the small note.

“What?” He turned his head.

“You’ll pay for what you did to me. Soon you’ll realise that you messed with the wrong person,” she read aloud.

“That’s promising, have you found anything else?”

“No, you?”

“No, onto Frier’s locker then.”

They put everything back and moved to the next locker, Sam asking Hermione to open it to save time. They searched through it and found the same note as they had in Poldark’s locker. They moved onto Kristy’s and they found the same note, only it was worded differently and the note was more malicious than the previous two.

“I’m sure I’ve seen this handwriting before,” Hermione mused as they headed to the last two lockers of Stewart and Glasper, which happened to be next to each other. “It’s definitely someone from my senior class.”

They came to their lockers and Hermione opened them both and they each took one after she deemed them free of anything harmful.

“I know this girl, she’s in my English class,” Hermione commented, showing the photo she found of two girls together, smiling wildly and laughing. In the photo was the victim, Hayley Stewart, and Jane.

“There’s a notebook here, filled with messages passed between Glasper and someone called Jane,” Sam said.

Her eyes snapped to the notebook and she took it from him, reading a few of the messages, of which were of a romantic and sexual nature.

“Jane, she’s the one in this photo.”

“Do you think they were sleeping together?” He frowned, reading some of the messages over her shoulder.

“No, you said that Stewart and Glasper hadn’t been dating long, these messages are dated for two months ago, so it was before they got together. By the way these messages read, Jane and Glasper were in a relationship at some point. And judging by the photograph I found, and it’s not the only one, Hayley and Jane were friends.”

“Check her locker?”

“Read my mind,” she replied, closing the lockers and Hermione lead the way since she knew where Jane’s locker was.

They looked through it and found photos of her and Hayley, as well as photos of her and Glasper.

“So, Jane and Glasper dated, they broke up and he got with her best friend,” she winced. “She broke girl code; that must’ve pissed her off.”

“So we’ve found a connection between Stewart and Glasper, what about the others?”

“If I’m reading these messages right, the victims did something that earned them these threats and almost dying,” she frowned. “Maybe we should check student records and see if there are any isolated incidences including our victims that may have caused this.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sam agreed and they quickly made their way to the principal’s office. Seeing it empty they snuck in and proceeded to go through the files, finding out the files of their victims and they quickly read them over.

“Found anything?” Hermione asked Sam.

“Yeah, Kristy was disciplined a few months back for bullying another student. There are several instances recorded, but the one that stands out the most is Kristy stealing another student’s clothes and leaving them stranded in the showers.”

Hermione looked at him horrified. “What is wrong with your people? If we have a problem with someone in wizarding school, we likely jinx them or embarrass them by making them dance uncontrollably or making them grow antlers, but we would never stoop that low, that’s horrific.”

“That’s high school,” Sam sighed, looking apologetic as if he could apologise for every bad thing that ever took place during those years of a student’s life. “Not everyone is a bully, but you get the odd person that takes things too far. Have you found anything?”

“Frier was disciplined a few months ago also, he stole another student’s project and handed it in with his name on, of course, the teacher knew it wasn’t his work.”

“Anything on Poldark?”

“No, nothing that I can see, is the student named?”

“Yeah, it’s...” He looked down at the paperwork, “Jane Fielding.”

“Mine too, that’s four of our victims connected to Jane, we should pull her file.”

Sam agreed with her and after putting the other files back, they pulled hers, reading through it together. They looked at each other when they found something, and they put the file back and headed back to her classroom.

“Did you find anything?” Dean asked, lounging in the chair with his feet on the desk, a smug expression on his face.

“Yes, we may know who’s responsible. We’ve found a connection between four of our teenage victims. Kristy was disciplined for bullying, Frier was disciplined for stealing another’s work and handing it in as his own. Glasper and Stewart were dating, after Glasper broke up with his previous girlfriend, who just so happened to be Stewart’s best friend,” Sam explained and Dean made a face at his words.

“I found a connection to Wellers and Harrow,” Dean gloated.

“Let me guess, they both had complaints filed against them by the same student,” Hermione spoke.

“How did you know?” He frowned, sitting up in his seat and putting his feet back on the ground.

“We pulled the suspect’s file, Jane Fielding. She filed a complaint against Harrow since he was failing her in PE and she filed a complaint against Wellers since he always gave her lower grades than she expected. She needs to pass PE and get the grades in her other subjects in order to be accepted into college.”

“Jane? Isn’t she the one you had trouble with in class?” Dean frowned.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I wouldn’t allow her to work on Wellers’ analysis project since Walters asked me to give them a different project, in order to give them a break from Wellers’ difficult class plans. She refused to do the work set and she disrupted the learning environment of the other students, and after insulting me I sent her to the principal’s office.”

“She’s connected to everyone, including you, it must be her,” Dean said.

She nodded. “I think it is, but we don’t know how Poldark fits into all of this,” her forehead crinkled. “But the other students might, do the football team have practice tonight?”

“I think so, why?”

“From what I’ve heard Poldark was friends with Blake, if he’s still here I can talk to him and see if he can shed any light on the situation.”

~000~000~000~

“I’m sorry to bother you, Coach Owen,” Hermione said with a friendly smile, noticing that the mid-forties man eyed her up with his brown eyes.

“No bother at all, Miss. Hart, what can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if I may have a quick word with Blake for a moment, it’s regarding his English project. I won’t keep his attention long, five minutes at most.” He looked at her strangely but he called over Blake and nodded to her.

She smiled in thanks and walked further away so no one would overhear them.

“I won’t keep you long, Blake,” Hermione spoke. “I was just wondering if you could help me with something?”

“What?” He frowned.

“I need you to tell me if there’s any reason someone would wish to hurt Justin Poldark, from what I can gather you’re friends.”

“Why do you need to know that?” He leaned back slightly. Her eyes scanned her surroundings and she sighed.

“Look, Blake, I don’t need to tell you I’m not like the other teachers.”

“You’re better,” he shrugged and she laughed lightly.

“That’s kind of you to say, given I’m not actually a teacher.”

“What do you mean?”

She put her hand into her pocket and pulled out her ID, showing it to him. His eyes widened when he saw what she wanted him to see. “I am Hermione Hart, an undercover agent for the FBI.” He stared at her, his mouth hung open.

“But...But...” He cleared his throat and shuffled on his feet. “What about Mr. Chester? Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“He is also an undercover agent, he is my partner and yes, he is still my boyfriend. When we were placed here, we were given the task of finding the person that is responsible for the injuries to your classmates.”

“They were freak accidents, and the others are just ill.”

“I can’t say much, but I will tell you that evidence has arisen that suggests foul play and I am investigating. I believe we have a suspect, but before anything can be done, I need to know if there is someone who would want to hurt Justin. I thought seeing as he’s your friend, you might know.”

“He was my friend, not anymore.” The look she gave him encouraged him to continue. “A few weeks ago he asked a girl out on a date and he took her to dinner. The next morning he was bragging that he’d gotten laid. The girl confronted him and accused him of slipping something into her drink and raping her.”

“Did he?”

“I don’t know, I was there when she confronted him in the parking lot. When I heard what she said I wasn’t sure who to believe, but being caught in a situation like that wouldn’t have been good for my record, so I left them to their arguing. I haven’t spoken to Justin since, and then he had the accident.”

“What is the name of the girl?” She asked and he looked conflicted. “Blake, I need you to tell me her name, so that I can clear her of being a suspect.”

“Jane Fielding,” he answered. 

Hermione’s suspicions were confirmed, she was tied to all seven victims now.

“Thank you, Blake, I think this goes without saying, but don’t tell anyone of Mr. Chester’s true identity and the same goes for me. No one but you is aware of the investigation and that includes other staff members as well as Principal Walters.”

He nodded. “If this FBI thing doesn’t work out, you’d make a great teacher,” he commented.

“You’re not the first person to say that to me,” she chuckled, and then she turned and disappeared, heading back to her classroom where Sam and Dean waited for her.

“So?” Sam prompted.

“Jane accused Poldark of slipping something into her drink and raping her when he took her out on a date.” They blinked in shock.

“Did he rape her?” Dean asked.

“I don’t have any evidence either way, but I can’t see someone hurting a person in such a way as this, if they hadn’t have wronged them so. In my opinion, I think he may have and it’s what made her go off the deep end. Her boyfriend breaking up with her and then moving onto her best friend, the head cheerleader bullying her, the captain of the baseball team stealing her project, her teachers failing her, and being raped by the captain of the soccer team,” she counted off each point on her fingers. “And she came after me because she felt I had wronged her by not allowing her to work on her project.”

They all shared looks and then Sam’s phone rang. He frowned and stepped out of the classroom to take the call.

“How do you want to play this?” She asked Dean.

“Normally we’d end up killing the one responsible, but we’re dealing with a troubled teenage girl that’s been wronged.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What would you do?”

“I honestly don’t know,” she confessed.

Sam entered the room and the look on his face told them something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?” They both asked together.

“It was the hospital. Harrow’s and Weller’s condition is worsening; they say they only have until the morning at best. Stewart and Glasper aren’t doing too well either. Poldark died fifteen minutes ago.”

There was not a sound in the room.

Hermione turned to Dean. “We’re dealing with a murderer now, it’s your call.”

His eyes searched her face, watching for any sign of disappointment. “Is there anything you can do other than killing her?”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise at what he was hearing. Dean was willingly open to other options than killing? Hell, that was something he never thought he’d see in his life.

“I might be able to take her to the Ministry and they can decide her punishment. Although she’s a muggle, she has exposed magic to the world, whether it be our kind or the kind from hell, that’s a crime and it won’t go ignored.”

“We’ll catch her and you can take her,” Dean said and her entire face softened, making Dean’s insides flutter. He cleared his throat. “Since the illnesses haven’t worn off it means they still have the hex bags near them in the hospital.”

“Or that the illnesses have infected their system and it isn’t able to fight it off,” Hermione countered and he nodded seeing her point.

“Is there anything you can do for them? If there are no hex bags and their bodies are shutting down, can you help them?”

She bit her lip and frowned. “I won’t know for sure until I see what the damage is, I’m not a magical healer but I’m fairly decent at counter curses. I can’t take them to St. Helga’s so I’m on my own on that front. How would you normally reverse the effects?”

“The witch can remove the curse, the hex bag is destroyed or use a spell to break it,” he answered.

“We’ll try and get Jane to remove the curse first; afterwards I’ll do my best for them. We only have until the morning to get this case solved. Lives depend on it.”


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 6

They returned to the motel only for Dean and Hermione to change their clothing and pick up the things they needed. Hermione dressed in a tracksuit jacket, a black t-shirt, a pair of black skinny jeans and black boots, whilst Dean wore his customary leather jacket, with a t-shirt, well-worn jeans and his boots. Hermione made sure her wand was secure and hidden up her sleeve, whilst her spare was hidden in her boot. She could see both Sam and Dean stuffing knives and guns into the waistbands of their jeans and under the legs of their jeans.

“All set?” Dean asked, and for some reason which Hermione couldn’t fathom, he looked worried. She nodded, picked up her beaded bag and slipped it into her jacket pocket, before leaving out the door and heading to the car.

They had looked up Jane’s address and the drive to her house wasn’t a long one, but it was quiet and tense. They parked several houses away and climbed out, walking down the street and to the correct house.

As Hermione approached, she could see several lights on but it appeared to be quiet. Hermione looked around, before casting a heat signature detection charm, the results showing their only being one found, but not their positioning in the house.

Sam shrugged, before pressing the doorbell and they waited, there was no answer and so he tried again. He shared a look with Dean, before turning his attention to Hermione.

“Can you?” Sam nodded at the door and waved his hand as if he had a wand in it.

Dean looked confused until Hermione nodded and pointed her wand at the door handle.

“ _Alohamora_ ,” she muttered, and the lock ‘clicked’ open. Sam pushed the door open and Dean looked down at her in surprise.

“That’ll come in handy,” he commented and she laughed lightly, before putting her game face on.

They stepped into the house, Sam, Dean and then Hermione and they looked around their surroundings.

“It’s too quiet,” Hermione muttered, her eyes flickering in every direction.

“Aren’t teenage girls suppose to be loud, storming down the stairs, music blaring, that kind of thing?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know? I wasn’t exactly a regular teenage girl, was I?” She looked at Dean with a look that all but said he was stupid for even asking her, and Sam snorted.

“Guys, as funny as this is, we have a witch to deal with?” Sam interrupted and just as he said this, Hermione, Dean and Sam suddenly found themselves glued to the wall. Dean’s gun was pulled from his hand, as was Sam’s, luckily Hermione still had her wand hidden.

“You better not be responsible for this, Glinda,” Dean grumbled.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Of course I’m not, you muppet,” she shot back.

“Guys!” Sam interrupted, and they turned their eyes away from each other, to Sam, then to the stairs where Jane was currently stood, an open book in hand, a smirk on her face and her eyes so dark, they were almost black.

“I knew you weren’t teachers,” Jane spoke coldly.

“Oh, the wicked witch is home,” Dean commented lightly.

He grunted when he was pulled from the wall, only to slam back into it with a whispered chant from Jane’s lips.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed dangerously at seeing Dean getting injured and her protective instincts flared up.

She heard Dean chuckle from beside her. “Shouldn’t have done that, Sweetheart,” he told Jane, his voice rumbling in amusement “Fucker!” He cursed when he was brought back from the wall only to slam into it harder than the first time.

“Jane,” Hermione spoke, forcing herself to be calm. Forcing herself to not hex the teenage girl’s arse into next week. “I suggest you let us go.”

Jane cackled, actually cackled.

“Witches do not cackle!” Hermione hissed, turning her narrowed eyes on Dean, who looked more amused than worried about the situation they were currently in.

“Jane, let us go before I am forced to do something you will regret making me do.”

“You do not have the power to do anything. You humans are weak against me.”

“Oh fuck’s sake, another power-hungry moron, why are these weirdoes drawn to me?” She muttered. She took a deep breath. “Jane, I know what happened.” Jane’s laughter stopped and she glared fiercely at Hermione, walking down the stairs and towards her. “I know what Frier did to you, I know what Kristy did, and Glasper and Stewart. And I know about Poldark.”

Cold fury shone in her eyes as she approached them, stopping in front of Hermione.

“What happened to you, you didn’t deserve it, no one does, but that doesn’t justify taking another’s life.”

“You know nothing!” She hissed.

“But I do, Jane. I was ridiculed in school, bullied, tormented, hated. I was _tortured_. So a cheerleader stole your clothes, and I’m not making excuses, what she did was awful, but I was forced to face things worse than bullies during my childhood. See this scar on my throat?” She lifted her head up, her scar glinting in the light. “Do you know how I got that? I was abducted and I had a knife held to my throat, my tormentor tried to slit my throat. I know perfectly well how you are feeling.”

“No, you don’t!” She snarled, getting closer into Hermione’s face.

“Oh but I do Jane, you are not the only one that has to face bullying in school. I had my childhood taken from me. There’s still a chance left for you. The dark arts are dark for a reason. They control you, they turn you into an unrecognisable shell of yourself.”

“I’m able to cast forms of magic that aren’t supposed to exist!” She hissed. “I am powerful! I am special!”

Dean snorted beside her, Sam barely managed to move his head, peaking over Hermione to glare at him.

“Listen, Sabrina, you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, and if you don’t let us go, I’m going to set Hermione on you.”

A whispered chant left Jane’s lips, and suddenly a kitchen knife came zooming into the room, heading straight for Dean’s heart.

“ _Protego_ ,” Hermione whispered, and a blue shield formed in front of Dean, the knife slammed into it, dropping to the floor.

Jane’s eyes widened and she stepped back slightly.

“I will give you one last chance, let us go and there is still a possibility that you will be able to graduate.”

Not only were several kitchen knives seen heading for the trio, but so were scissors and the fire poker from beside the fireplace.

Hermione groaned in annoyance, before taking a breath and summoning her magic to cast a much larger and stronger shield, wandlessly. “ _Protego Totalum_ ,” she whispered and the invisible shield covered the three of them, Dean and Sam shut their eyes tightly, waiting to be impaled to death, yet it didn’t happen and there were suddenly ‘clangs’ of the metal objects crashing to the ground.

“That’s my girl,” Dean laughed in joy, but her eyes were narrowed on the completely surprised Jane.

“You wouldn’t know a trueborn witch if she slapped you in the fucking face,” Hermione said rather calmly, which was a contrast to the fury in her eyes. “So let me introduce you to one. _Finite_ ,” she mumbled, and she was no longer glued to the wall, she landed on her feet smoothly. Sam and Dean had a little more difficulty, only just stopping themselves from crashing to the ground.

Hermione slowly began to walk forward, as Jane walked backwards.

Hermione held her hand out, the book Jane was holding flew into Hermione’s hands. Jane gasped, and Hermione looked down at the book, chuckling mirthlessly.

“This is not witchcraft,” she said and then the book suddenly went up in flames, Hermione dropped it to the floor, watching as the fire devoured the offering.

“No!” Jane cried, lunging for the book, but Hermione held her hand out and Jane was thrown across the room, skidding across the floor as Hermione slowly approached.

“You are not now, nor will you ever be a true witch. A trueborn witch is born with her magic. A trueborn witch doesn’t require the need to chant a ridiculous spell. A trueborn witch would never use something as _pathetic_ as a hex bag to take down those that she hates. You call yourself a witch, you’re nothing more than a scared little girl that’s angry at the world. Tell me, what did you sacrifice to gain this power, because I’m telling you now, it’s not magic which you think you are wielding. It’s darkness from Hell itself. Who did you sacrifice?” Hermione glared down at her.

Jane began chanting some ridiculous spell and Hermione rolled her eyes. “ _Silencio_ ,” she said lightly and Jane’s hand came up to her throat when her words were suddenly cut off, Hermione smiled.

“That’s better, all of this chanting was giving me a headache. You’re just lucky I’m feeling merciful, so I won’t be killing you tonight, but who knows what your punishment will be for exposing the long-kept secret of magic? I guess we’ll find out. Now, are you going to reverse the effects of your wrongdoings towards those with illnesses? It’s your only chance at possible redemption.” Hermione found herself staring down at Jane, who was currently glaring murderously and sending some obscene hand gestures her way. “Stand up,” Hermione ordered.

Jane glared at her from the ground. Hermione sighed, before grabbing Jane’s arm and pulling her up, she pulled her over to the couch and pushed her until she was sitting down, before casting a Sticking Charm on her, to stop her from being able to escape. She turned around to see Sam gawking at her and Dean was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a proud look on his face.

“You can be frightening when you want to be,” Sam commented, clearing his throat.

She snorted at him. “You’re not the first person to tell me that. I’ll be right back, I need to find and destroy any possible dark magical artefacts.”

“Won’t you need them for evidence?”

“Not necessarily, we have ways of removing our memories and storing them for later use,” she shrugged, leaving the two surprised brothers to watch over the struggling Jane.

She knew she had to be quick; the Silencing Charm was done wandlessly, so it was weaker than usual, as was the Sticking Charm, so they would wear off a lot quicker than normal. She quickly made her way up the stairs and found her way to Jane’s bedroom.

She followed her instincts and it led her to the chest of drawers in the corner of the room. She pulled open the first drawer and sighed.

“Oh, Merlin’s Sake, a bloody pentagram, how cliché,” she scoffed looking down at the five pointed star inside a circle, in annoyance.

It was surrounded by several candles, a silver athame with dried blood on the blade, a few jars of differently coloured powdered substances, which she didn’t recognise, and there were a few symbols carved into the wood of the drawer. Some she didn’t recognise and looked to have been made up, others she did.

 _‘Of course, she would get those ones right,’_ she thought, rolling her eyes. She clearly recognised the runes for death, pain, vengeance and power.

She moved onto the second drawer, opening it to see the materials for making hex bags, including the ingredients, which she didn’t linger looking over, before quickly moving onto the third and final drawer, where she came across several other spell books, and a few small silver chalices, half-filled with what she knew to be blood. She gagged, before summoning some vials, taking a sample from each chalice, before quickly destroying the entire contents of the chest of drawers, leaving no evidence behind. She heard noises coming from downstairs and she frowned, quickly making her way down the stairs to see what was going on.

She had not expected for Sam to be hidden behind the overturned dining table, with knives, scissors and other sharp objects being flung at him magically, nor to see Dean, currently fighting with a young man. Jane was still stuck to the couch, yet the _Silencio_ had worn off, allowing her to chant.

Hermione groaned in annoyance. “ _Finite_ ,” she muttered and the flying objects clattered to the floor.

“Blake!” Hermione all but shrieked in surprise at seeing him there, currently fighting with Dean.

What the bloody hell was he doing there? When she spoke, Dean landed a punch on Blake’s jaw, sending him to the ground.

“I’m gone, all of ten minutes and you end up hiding behind a table and in a fistfight?” Hermione spoke with a raised eyebrow, as Dean grabbed Blake by the arms and pinned him to the wall, his arm pressed against his throat.

“Nothing is ever as easy as we would like it to be, Sweetheart,” he panted, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

She rolled her eyes, glaring at Jane in warning, before approaching the struggling teen under Dean’s hold. There was no way he was going to escape, Dean was a lot stronger than him and no matter how much he writhed and wriggled and tried to break free, Dean’s hold was not relenting.

She stopped beside Dean and sighed when she saw Blake’s cloudy eyes and the twitchy tension in his body. She pulled her wand and tapped it to his head, Blake’s frame suddenly went limp and Dean stepped back causing Blake to crash to the floor.

“I never expected your admirer to be in on this,” Dean grumbled.

“I don’t think he is, I’ve seen this type of magic before. His eyes were clouded over; his body was twitchy and tense, as if trying to fight something off. He wasn’t in control of his actions, which means that someone else was.” She turned around, her eyes landing on Jane. “You’ve just dug yourself an even deeper hole, mind control is a forbidden form of magic; that has just given you a one way ticket to a magical prison with creatures that suck out your soul and devour it like its candy, muggle or not.”

Hermione turned her back and walked over to Sam, helping him to stand up and checking him for any injuries, and seeing that he didn’t have any, she smiled.

A sudden chant was heard, Dean cursed loudly, Sam’s eyes widened and she turned around, to see that Jane was stood behind Dean; he was on his knees with a knife magically held to his throat.

Hermione felt worry and fury consume her and she struggled to control herself.

“You underestimated me,” Jane sneered.

“No, I never, you underestimated me,” Hermione replied coldly and now her mind wasn’t her own. Her emotions and instincts took over until she was no longer in control of her actions.

“One word and I’ll kill your precious boyfriend!

“You may have three. Go fuck yourself!” Hermione replied.

Jane began the chant, and just as the knife was about to cut through Dean’s throat, a knife appeared in Hermione’s hand and she threw it, with such precision that it was worrying.

Jane’s words suddenly died off and she cackled, looking down at herself where the knife was firmly lodged in her chest. She gripped it and pulled it out of her, dropping it to the floor. Blood covered her clothing and hands, and Jane collapsed to the ground.

Her cackling turning into gargling sounds as she struggled to breathe as she choked on her own blood until her breathing stopped entirely and her eyes closed.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 4

Hermione stood, staring in surprise as she slowly came back to herself, only just realising that she had killed a teenage girl.

Her eyes flickered to Dean, who was staring off behind him at the body, he turned his head and his gaze locked onto Hermione’s, and when that happened she rushed over to him, forgetting about the dead body and the other unconscious teen. She dropped onto her knees in front of him, her eyes scanning him for injuries as her hands did the same, running over his face and chest.

When she reached his throat, she saw blood trickling from the small cut that had been made from the knife. She pressed her wand to the injury and focused her attention on healing it, when she pulled her wand away, the cut and blood were gone, looking as though nothing had happened.

“You weren’t kidding about being good with knives,” Dean said quietly. “I don’t even think I could’ve made that shot,” he said and Hermione was surprised that he appeared to be more amused with the situation, rather than judging her for killing a teenaged girl.

She knew she would hate herself when she had time to process everything that had happened, but all she could feel was relief. Relief that Dean wasn’t hurt. He was safe.

She breathed out and suddenly flung her arms around his neck, pulling herself against him and hugging him tightly, breathing in his scent of motor oil, gun powder and soap. Dean didn’t comment on her suddenly trying to squeeze the oxygen from his lungs, he simply brought his arms to wrap around her, holding her against him. He buried his head against her neck, her fallen curls tickling his forehead and he placed a calming kiss to her shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he said, seeming to know why it was she currently clinging to him like a terrified kitten. Sam for his part, stood back, looking around the room awkwardly.

Hermione took a final deep breath, pulling her head back to rest her forehead against his. His green eyes locked onto hers, there was no judgement there, only understanding and pride.

She pulled back entirely and stood up, Dean doing the same and she made her way over to the unconscious Blake, running her wand over him as she cast a few diagnostic spells.

“So, how is he involved in all of this?” Sam cleared his throat. “He just turned up out of nowhere, during the distraction she began chanting and trying to kill me.”

“Just give me a moment,” she spoke, before kneeling on the ground and using Legilimency on the unconscious teenager. It was several minutes later when she pulled back, since she took the time to alter the poor teen’s memories, so he would never remember any of what had happened, nor that he had something to do with it.

She sighed and stood up, before walking over to the couch and plopping herself down on to it. “Blake wasn’t aware of his actions, the best way to describe it is it being similar to a possession. I took samples from the chalices of blood I found.” They both grimaced. “It wasn’t just dark magic she was practising, but blood magic which is very dangerous. I don’t know how, but Jane was able to get her hands on some of Blake’s blood, and with this, she was able to control his mind. He tried to fight against the magic, but it was too powerful and he was helpless, he was forced to do anything she told him to. He had access to Kristy, Frier and Poldark, he’s the one that slipped the hex bags into their belongings without them noticing. I’ve altered his memories. He won’t remember anything that happened, not that he aided Jane or that she was controlling his mind, not turning up here, and he believes that we’re ordinary substitute teachers.”

“We should probably leave, we’ll put in an anonymous call. We can’t make her disappear, the best we can hope for is a murder investigation, until the case goes cold,” Sam commented softly, not wanting to upset her.

She nodded. “Her parents are dead.”

“How do you know that?” Dean asked her, frowning.

“She killed them; they were the sacrifice she made to hell for her power. I read her thoughts before I left to go upstairs. She used their blood at first and killed them a couple of days ago, to pay her debt. From what I could see in her mind, her parents mostly worked, didn’t spend a lot of time at home or with her, even from a young age. They pressured her into having the perfect grades and they punished her when she came home with anything less an A. She hated them, she didn’t regret killing them or the others for that matter,” she rubbed a hand over her face. “Just give me a minute and I’ll remove any evidence of us even being here.”

“You can do that?” Sam asked surprised.

“I can,” she confirmed, standing up and muttering under her breath, her wand being waved in a series of arches, followed by a swirl and finishing with a flick.

“That’ll come in handy,” Dean mumbled, watching as the room glowed a soft blue, before returning to normal. The room looked spotless, not a thing out of place.

“It’s done, I’ll apparate Blake out of here and to the diner before waking him. I’ll be back in a minute.”

~000~000~000~

“Miss. Hart?” Blake spoke, holding a hold to his head and squinting his eyes in the light of the street lamp.

“Are you alright, Blake?” She asked with a worried frown on her face as she crouched down.

He was currently sprawled on the ground, in the alleyway of the diner.

“I...I don’t know...What happened?”

“I’m not sure, I heard a noise and followed it, this is how I found you.” He sat up, pressing his back against the wall. “Maybe I should take you to the hospital,” she spoke.

“No, no, I’m fine, I must’ve just fallen and blacked out. Coach was relentless at practice.”

“You shouldn’t allow yourself to be put in a position of exhaustion, especially to the point when you blackout. It’s not healthy.”

He nodded, pushing himself up onto his feet. “I think I’ll just head home.”

“Maybe we should call you a taxi,” she suggested.

“No, it’s fine, I only live two blocks away, I’ll just walk. Thank you, Miss .Hart.”

“It’s not a problem, Blake, I’ll see you at school in the morning, good night,” she told him, as they headed out of the alleyway together. He left in one direction and she turned and walked back into the alley.

~000~000~000~

“This is it,” Sam spoke, nodding to the closed door which was currently hiding four comatosed patients.

They entered the sterile smelling room, Sam and Dean stood watch as she quickly made her way to the first bed. Her wand started reacting to the backpack that was by the side of the bed and she frowned.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” He turned his head and she nodded at the backpack.

He seemed to understand what she was trying to convey as he made his way over to it, rummaged around in it before he dropped a hex bag to the ground.

“Maybe check the others?” She offered, and he nodded in agreement. As he went through the others’ belongings, Hermione set about casting diagnostic spells on Stewart.

“Do you know what it is?” Sam asked when he saw her frowning as she moved her wand in slow, deliberate movements.

“It’s not an illness or curse that I recognise,” she bit her lip in thought.

“And?” He questioned, seemingly knowing she had more to say.

“The way the curse is layered, there’s nothing complex about it. It’s so simple, it can’t actually be that simple,” she muttered.

“Maybe it is,” he offered.

She lifted her eyes to his and then looked back down at Stewart.

“ _Exilium_ ,” she whispered.

Hermione was not a healer, nor was she a doctor, but when the monitors began beeping wildly, before stopping and levelling out, even she knew that something was different. She cast a charm over Stewart and laughed in disbelief, seeing that her heartbeat was strong and the black aura that she detected in her blood was no longer there.

“It is that simple!” She exclaimed in excitement.

Dean leaned against the nearest wall with a small smile on his face and Sam smiled and chuckled at her from his place beside the door. She quickly moved onto the other three patients, seeing that although their results were slightly different, the same counter curse worked for all three.

Hermione destroyed the hex bags, before pressing the button in the room to alert the doctors to the now rapidly improving patients and they snuck out of the hospital room, quickly moving onto the room that located Frier and Kristy. Dean found the hex bags, still in with their belongings and after Hermione destroyed them, there wasn’t anything she could do for the two teens, and so they left the hospital, picked up some take out and went back to the motel.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 5

Hermione stood in the shower of her motel room, her head pressed to the tiled wall and the hot water running down her back, washing away the tension in her muscles.

 _She had killed a teenage girl_. That was the only thought that kept running through her mind. _She had killed a seventeen-year-old girl._

But what got to her the most wasn’t that she had killed a teenage girl, it was that she _knew_ she would do it again if it meant keeping Dean safe. She needed him to be safe. She needed him alive and healthy. She needed him to not be hurt.

She cared for him. _Deeply._ She was more than just attracted to him, she was attached to him. She couldn’t even contemplate not waking up to his wandering hands or his breath disturbing her curls, tickling her. She couldn’t contemplate not hearing his teasing comments, his amused laughter or even seeing that damn irritating smirk of his.

He wanted her just as much as she wanted him. She knew it. She could feel it. She could see it. The way he acted around her and towards her spoke volumes.

She needed him and she knew it. She needed him to lessen the effect of her nightmares. She was more rested than she had ever been, her nightmares being nowhere near as vivid as they once were, and occasionally, she would have a nice dream, of which Dean was, of course, present in. She needed him to comfort her, which he did without even realising he was doing it, and without her realising that she had needed it. She always felt better in his presence. Lighter. Happier. Cared for.

She was screwed and she knew it. Because, she was falling madly in love with Dean Winchester. This wasn’t going to end well, she should just break things off between them and leave to protect herself from getting hurt in the long run. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t leave him.

She would kill for him and she had, a teenage girl, and she would do it again.

Arms snaked around her stomach and a warm body pressed against her. She sighed when a kiss was placed to the back of her neck and she reached up and changed the angle of the showerhead, so the water would cover both of them.

“We didn’t go there to kill her,” he said, resting his chin on her shoulder and looking at the tiled wall, watching her face’s reflection in the surface. “We tried to reason with her, you gave her the chance to redeem herself. Her actions caused her death, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” she replied, sounding tired. “I don’t feel guilty for killing her,” she confessed and she turned in his arms to face him, her hands coming up to rest on his chest, her fingers tracing his runic and anti-possession tattoos.

“I feel guilty that I would do it again.” She refused to look at him. He brought a hand up to her chin, tilting her head so she was forced to look at him, his green eyes staring into her very soul, searching for something. “I would do it again,” she repeated. “If it meant that you were safe, then I would kill anyone that ever threatened your safety.”

“You would?” He questioned quietly, sounding almost vulnerable and her heart all but melted.

“I would,” she confirmed. “I killed Jane for you. To keep you safe. I couldn’t control it. I wasn’t in control of my actions, my mind fogged over and I couldn’t think coherently, I was no longer in control of myself, it was as if I was stood on the sidelines, watching myself act to save you, but I wasn’t actually the one to do it,” she frowned slightly. “I can’t explain it, but I needed you to be safe, I _need_ you to be safe.”

She sighed, pulling her eyes from his gaze and looking down at his chest, watching her fingers as they traced over the ink. His hand on her chin tilted her head up once more. His eyes locked onto her, once again searching for something.

She blinked and when she opened her eyes, Dean’s mouth was upon hers, kissing her. Her eyes fluttered closed as his tongue probed her mouth, her arms wrapped around his neck and she rose onto her tiptoes as he held her close to him.

Something was different. She knew it instantly.

Usually, when Dean kissed her, he attacked her with a fiery passion that had her feeling as though she were being consumed by flames. He stole her breath, he made her dizzy, he made her lose all coherent thought.

But this time, he kissed her softly, slowly, sensually, exploring her mouth although he was more than acquainted with it by this point. His kiss, this kiss, ignited a slow-burning within her, and she knew it was going to drive her crazy.

His arms moved lower, scooping her up until she wrapped herself around him. His hand fumbled blindly until he was able to turn the shower off. He stepped out of the shower, leaving the bathroom and depositing Hermione on the bed, all without pulling his mouth from hers.

He covered her body with his and although they were taking their time to explore each other’s mouths, there was a sense of urgency in their needing to be connected. With a few strokes and a little pressure on her nub, Hermione was more than ready for him, and he wasted no time, and he slowly entered her, her silky warmth enveloping him and they both let out soft noises, being caught in the other’s mouth.

Dean’s hands found hers, his fingers lacing through hers and he held her hands on either side of her head, as he set a slow and steady pace with deep, purposeful strokes.

His lungs were burning with the need for oxygen and even though he didn’t want to, he was forced to pull his mouth from her, but he quickly latched onto her skin, kissing and suckling at her skin, tugging at ear lobe, nibbling her jaw and licking at her scars. Nothing was left untouched. She arched up into him, her head tilted to the side as soft sounds left her and she huffed and panted. 

He mumbled against her skin, she couldn’t understand what he was saying, but the vibrations ran through her and she shuddered beneath him, her hands tightening on his. The slow burn that had ignited was now hotter than ever and burning away within her.

The slight change in the angle of his hips hit the spot inside of her and she purred softly, as she clamped around him and the fire within her was suddenly flooded by a wave of pleasure. She relaxed into the mattress, but when she realised Dean had been holding back and hadn’t found release, she forced herself to meet each of his thrusts, and although he had changed the rhythm, it wasn’t by much and the slow burn within her began to climb once again.

He latched himself back onto her mouth, groaning into her mouth when her sensitive body began to flutter around him. She found the strength to roll them, yet she kept herself flat against him and her mouth on his, even as she moved over him and he thrust into her from beneath her.

She pulled her hands from his and they ran down over his neck and throat, down his shoulders and arms and in-between them to run over his chest. His hands roamed the soft skin of her back as he held her against him, and he could feel the slightly raised scars under his fingertips.

A purr left her as her walls suddenly clamped around him and her nails dug into his chest and scrapped downwards, removing skin and causing it to bleed. He groaned into her mouth as his thrusting became erratic and he found his release.

He didn’t stop kissing her, not until he absolutely needed oxygen. When that happened he placed a kiss to her forehead as she snuggled into him and slipped her arms under and around his neck, hugging him tightly. One of his hands was buried in her hair and the other had taken to running over the skin of her back.

Hermione barely had enough energy to whisper a spell to cover them with the blanket, but it was cold in the room so she forced herself to do so.

They lay in silence, cuddling each other and revelling in the presence of the other.

They both knew things between them had changed. It wasn’t as it was before. Things were now different. They both knew it, they both could feel it, yet neither of them commented on the fact, letting it go unsaid, but known.

~000~000~000~

Hermione had long since fallen asleep and although Dean knew he should be sleeping, too, he couldn’t find it in him to tear his eyes away from her. She was still sprawled across his chest, her weight being a welcome feeling. He could hear every one of her deep breaths, he could feel every puff of air leaving her mouth and ghosting over his skin, he could feel her steady heartbeat against his own skin. He could see the light freckles on her nose, the bushiness of her curls and his hand was still buried in it and it would be for as long as he could get away with it.

He loved her hair. And her body. And her wittiness. And her seemingly endless appetite. And her honesty. And her kindness. And her sex drive that even he was impressed with. The only flaw he could see within her was her lack of self-preservation.

She was special.

She was his.

She was perfect for him. His Angel.

He blinked in surprise at the turn his thoughts had taken and he frowned, but it softened when she shifted slightly and sighed in her sleep.

Things between them had changed. He wasn’t quite sure how, but he knew they had. He was no longer just attracted to her, she had wormed her way under his skin, all without trying, and he cared for her. He didn’t want any harm to come to her. He thought about telling her to leave, he didn’t want her to get hurt because people around him always ended up dead. Yet he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to leave him, not only did he know she would tell him where to shove his words, he couldn’t imagine his days without her.

He couldn’t imagine not waking up next her, not being able to touch her or tease her. Not being able to muss up her hair or playfully arguing with her. She had changed him, and not wanting to admit it, but it was for the better.

Now, he was open-minded about the magical world he hadn’t known existed, nor the witches and wizards that were born with their magic. He was amazed by the compassion she showed, the way people opened up to her. The way she was delicate and kind, yet also deadly and fierce.

Now, he didn’t drink as much. He didn’t have to since he no longer dealt with vividly detailed nightmares, not only from his time in hell but because he knew that monsters did, in fact, exist. She kept his nightmares bearable, he didn’t wake from them. He slept through the night and every now and again, he would have a peaceful dream centred around Hermione.

He didn’t sleep around. Again, he didn’t have to because he had Hermione, and to be honest, Hermione kept him on his toes, she kept his attention –which was a miracle in itself since he had always had a wandering eye before meeting her- and she kept him busy. He had a very healthy sex life, almost every day in fact, whereas before it was different women every couple of weeks. He found that he wasn’t as tired, he wasn’t as stressed, he wasn’t lonely or empty inside.

Hermione didn’t look at him as though he were stupid, if she or Sam were speaking of something that he didn’t understand. She just explained to him in terms he would understand until he knew exactly what they had been saying. She didn’t yell at him for his admittedly possessive behaviour, which wasn’t normal for him. She didn’t force him to talk about things he didn’t want to. She didn’t care that he was a Hunter. She didn’t care that he had killed people and creature and demons, even Angels. She didn’t care that he was scarred and tainted.

She was perfect.

She was all he needed. She was all he wanted.

And after contemplating the fact, he came to realise that not only did he care for her, his feelings for her were...Different. Stronger.

He knew what love felt like. He loved Sammy. He loved Bobby. And he loved his parents, despite both being dead.

But he had never been in love, and because he had never felt it, he didn’t believe in it. Until, he met Hermione. The Little Witch had turned his already fucked up life upside down, but it was better now.

He cared for her. He didn’t want her to leave him. He didn’t want anyone but him to have her. He wanted her safe. He didn’t want to hurt her. And, he would kill for her, to keep her safe, just as she had for him.

He had never had anyone care for him so much, well, apart from Sammy and Bobby, but they didn’t count.

And he found himself believing that maybe, just maybe, he was falling in love with her. 


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 5

Hermione woke to the feel of Dean’s hands softly trailing her back, and it was a comforting feeling. It was light and gentle, loving even and she felt a smile pull at her mouth as she blinked the grogginess away from her eyes.

A kiss was placed to the top of her head, “Morning,” he mumbled.

“Morning,” she sighed in reply, wrapping her arms around him tighter and snuggling into him further, seeking his warmth.

He chuckled at her behaviour, pausing in his hand tracing her skin to remove his arm from behind his head to wrap it around her, holding her to him.

“How long have you been awake?” She asked him.

“About half an hour,” he responded, shrugging his shoulders the best he could, given her weight on him and the way she was wrapped around him.

“You should’ve woken me.”

“I’m comfortable, and I’m not going to complain about a beautiful, naked woman being draped over me.”

She felt her cheeks heat up at his comment, and he chuckled at her silence. After five minutes of lying in peace and quiet, Hermione sighed and lifted her head to catch his eyes.

What Dean didn’t realise was that those beautiful green orbs often held so much emotion, Hermione could usually tell what he was feeling by simply looking at him. And looking at him now, he was...Peaceful. Happy.

“We have to be at the school soon,” she told him, moving a hand to his chest so she could rest her chin on it.

“The case is over now; we don’t need to go back.”

She shook her head. “We do need to go back, just for today anyway. It’s Friday, it’ll be suspicious if we suddenly disappear without anyone knowing, and we can’t leave the school two members of teaching staff down, even if we aren’t actual teachers. Today will be the last day, as I’m sure Harrow and Wellers are well on their way to recovery, and they won’t need substitutes anymore.”

“This is really important to you, isn’t it?” He questioned with a crease in his forehead.

She lifted her hand and smoothed a finger over it, and once it was gone, she brought her hand back down to his chest and rested her chin against it once more.

“It is; education is an essential part of life. It gives you opportunities, it gives you a chance to become a better you, the first eighteen years of a person’s life are important as this is when they are most impressionable. They learn from you by mimicking your behaviour and attitude, and teachers help to shape who these young adults will be when they enter adulthood. I may not be a teacher legally, but this is my last day with my students and I want to do as much good as I can, I want to be a part of shaping them for a better future, and if I can do that by simply turning up to class and reading over a few pieces of work and correcting them, then I will do so. I had the best education anyone could ever ask for, granted, it was somewhat tarnished by the years of fighting the war, but still, I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for my professors pushing me to work harder. If it wasn’t for them believing in me, believing that despite what others may think of my blood status, I can be anything I want to be, including an influential member of the Wizarding World, which is what I am. I am well known, not only for my role in the war and being friends with The Potters, Malfoys and The Minister of Magic, I am known because of my academic achievements and the work I do to this day.”

He lifted a hand to push her curls behind her ear and away from her face.

“Please, just one more day?”

He looked conflicted and then she got an idea, one she knew Dean would be more than willing to agree to.

She surprised him when she quickly sat up, shifting until she straddled him and she caught his eyes trailing over her body, when he looked back to her eyes, his had darkened and his hands slipped to her hips.

She bit her lip in amusement as she felt him slowly begin to harden beneath her. She leaned forward, bringing her hands onto either side of his head and lowering her head so as she spoke, her lips barely brushed his.

“If we can go to the school today, then, as a thank you, I might be inclined to partake in that fantasy of yours.”

His eyes widened comically, to the point where she thought they might actually fall out of his eye sockets. She held back a laugh when his grip on her hips tightened, his eyes screwed shut, his jaw ticked and he visibly took a deep breath, before slowly opening his eyes to stare into hers.

“You’ll wear the skirt?” His voice came out husky and she felt herself shiver at his tone.

“The skirt, the glasses, the heels, whatever you want,” she whispered.

He took another deep breath.

“If I agree to this, it has to be before we leave the school, and, it has to happen in my office.”

She felt her mouth twitch in amusement; she hadn’t expected that to leave his mouth. He was very possessive of her, and the thought that he’d want to have sex in a place surrounded by hormonal teenage boys that could interrupt at any moment was amusing.

“Deal,” she whispered, her lips lightly brushing his and she put a hand to his chest to hold him down when he tried to sit up to kiss her. “We don’t have time; we have to be at the school in less than an hour.”

He took a final deep breath, his hands tightening on her hips before loosening.

“Then let’s go, Miss. Hart, we have a long day of shaping the minds of young students.”

“I love the way you think, Mr. Chester,” she purred, and she chuckled when she felt his entire body stiffen at the sound that never failed to gain his attention.

~000~000~000~

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours that this is to be my last day here,” Hermione spoke, standing in front of her desk and looking out at her senior students, her eyes scanning the room, but making sure not to land on Jane’s empty desk. “Those rumours are true.”

The class collectively let out a sound of disappointment and she had to stop herself from laughing at the looks on the boys’ faces.

“I have enjoyed my time here immensely, and I can’t thank you all enough for welcoming me into your classroom. I will always remember the maturity and intelligence you have shown me, each and every one of you, and I don’t doubt you all have bright futures ahead of you. You have shown me what you are capable of, and if you believe in yourselves, then you can achieve anything you set out to do. I believe in you, so please believe in yourselves. I wish I was able to stay and continue on this journey with you, to help you complete your projects and watch you all get A’s and to give you snacks, because it’s polite to share and I’d just look like some strange chipmunk-hybrid, hiding in the corner of the room whilst stuffing my face if you weren’t here for me to share my snacks with.” The class laughed at her and she smiled. “But unfortunately today is my last day and I will not be returning.”

“Do you have to leave?” One of the cheerleaders raised her hand as she spoke.

“Yes, I have to,” she replied.

“But you’re the best teacher we’ve had,” Blake spoke aloud and the class murmured in agreement, making Hermione smile. “Maybe we can start a petition, if we get enough signatures then Principal Walters will have to let you stay.”

“Thank you, I appreciate your words and your kindness, I truly do, but I cannot stay, and a petition will not change that, no matter how many signatures you get. I am no longer needed here. Mr. Wellers has made a full recovery and has already been discharged from the hospital; he is set to return on Monday morning.” Grumbles broke out. “Not to worry,” she said, gaining their attention. “I’ve spoken to Mr. Wellers on the phone this morning and he has agreed to be a bit more lenient with you all.”

Everyone stared in shock, and she wasn’t surprised by their reactions. Upon healing Wellers, she slipped into his mind and seeing that he was stricter than McGonagall and Umbridge combined, she may have planted a few seeds which she left to take root. Now, Wellers wouldn’t be as harsh on his students, as she didn’t want another Jane situation, he would be respectful of the students and once a week, he would give them a chance to work quietly, whilst also being able to talk to their friends, and if he provided snacks once a week, then it wouldn’t hurt either. She wanted the teens to enjoy going to class and she wasn’t going to allow a grumpy old man ruin that for them.

“Despite that, I wouldn’t hand any homework in late if I were you. Please treat him with the respect you have shown me, and he will do so in return to all of you. You will find that he just wants the best for you, being grumpy is just part of his personality,” she shrugged and they snorted at her. “Okay then, now that’s been addressed, why don’t we get on with your projects, so you can show Mr. Wellers how hard you have worked when he returns?”

She smiled when she saw the desks and chairs being moved around the room, as everyone began chatting and pulling out work from their bags.

~000~000~000~

It was now the end of the day and Hermione had disillusioned herself and snuck into the boy’s locker rooms, heading straight to Dean’s office. She knocked on the door and when it opened, showing Dean’ confused face as he peered out the door and looked around for the one responsible, she snuck in.

When he shut the door, she removed the charm and he jumped in surprise when she came into his view, but upon seeing her, his eyes began to darken, obviously remembering her promise and the deal they had made.

“So, Mr. Chester, a deal is a deal, and as promised, here I am,” she said, perching herself on his desk, crossing her legs and clasping her hands in her lap.

He approached her, stopping in front of her and his hand lifted to her hair, releasing the tangle of curls from their restraint and they tumbled down her back and over her shoulders. Like Dean has asked of her, she wore a black high waisted pencil skirt and a white shirt, along with her black heels and her glasses, not to mention, the black lace underwear underneath, which he had been rather adamant about.

He brought his hand up to her shirt and undone a few more buttons, stopping when the valley of her breasts was revealed to him, and she bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at the look on his face.

She sighed when his fingers began to trace over the Dolohov scar peeking out from under her shirt.

“What the plan?” She asked him, her eyes fluttering closed.

“I’m going to ravish you on the desk, against the wall, an...”

“I meant when we get back to the motel,” she said amused.

“I’m going to ravish you on the table, against the wall, an...”

“I meant do you know if you’ve got any cases?” She opened her eyes, lifting her arms to loop around his neck.

She uncrossed her legs and Dean pushed her skirt up a little higher, parted her legs and stepped between them, his fingers still tracing her scar.

“We have a case in Springfield, Illinois, it’s not far; we should be able to get there in under five hours or so, depending on traffic. Sammy wants to get dinner and then head out soon after.”

“What do we have?”

“As far as we can tell, a haunted hotel,” he shrugged.

“As in spirits?”

“Likely, we won’t know until we take a closer look, now, we don’t have long and you promised the fulfilment of a sexy teacher fantasy.”

She smirked in response, slipping her wand out of her sleeve and erecting silencing and locking wards around the office, as well as making sure the blinds were shut. She put her wand on the table, wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs hooked around the back of his legs and she tugged him forward.

“Then who am I to get in the way of what was promised?” She whispered, her lips brushing the shell of his ear and he shuddered. She laughed when he attacked her neck with kisses, and she threaded her hands through his hair.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

**Three days later...**

“What the bloody hell was that?” Hermione panted, leaning against the door that she had just slammed shut behind her.

It was now three days later and they were still at the hotel they had checked into, and although it was quite nice and far better than the motels they had stayed in, it was tarnished by the fact it was haunted.

“ _That_ , was a violent spirit,” Dean panted also, leaning against a wall with a bar of iron in one hand and a gun loaded with salt pellets in the other.

“Remind me to introduce you to the spirits in my world.”

“Why?”

“They’re a lot nicer and most of them don’t try to kill you, in fact, most of them ignore your existence.”

“If only it were that easy,” he replied.

Hermione gave a shriek of surprise when the head of the ghost appeared beside her, through the door, and she jumped and ran, all but hiding behind Dean.

“You okay there?” He asked, despite the situation she could tell he was amused by her reaction.

She stood taller. “Yes, he just startled me,” she said, her eyes flickering over to the middle-aged man stood in front of the doorway, and he was eyeing both her and Dean in a way she didn’t like.

“What’s taking him so long?” Hermione grumbled.

“Sammy has to dig up the bones first, and that takes time,” Dean replied, his eyes on the ghost, the gun aimed at it should it come any closer to them.

“Next time, I’ll do it and you can deal with the ghost, with a few spells I can have the earth dug up, the bones destroyed and put back in place so no one would notice anything being different.”

“You’re just telling me this now, because?”

“Well I’m sorry, I’ve been a little distracted by Freddy McCreeperson over there.”

“McPeterson,” he corrected, but she knew he found her comment funny.

The ghost seemed to be contemplating his next move, whilst watching the two of them bicker, and suddenly he lunged forward, and just before he could reach them, Dean pulled the trigger on his gun, a salt pellet passing straight through the ghost’s stomach and he disappeared from view.

Hermione sighed in relief, only to scream when the ghost reappeared beside her, and a knife appeared from nowhere, aimed straight at her heart, and then, it burst in flames and the knife dropped to the ground.

She stepped back and watched as the flames devoured the spirit and he was dragged underground. She stared at the floor in surprise and then turned to Dean.

“Okay, I have a newfound appreciation for you and the scary shit you deal with.”

He snorted at her, slinging his arm over her shoulders and then walking out of the room, and back to their hotel room to wait for Sam to return. 

~000~000~000~

**A week later...**

“Sam! Duck!” Hermione called.

Sam dropped to the floor, scraping his hands on the twigs and dried leaves of the uneven ground of the forest they were running through, and just as he hit the ground, the large club that had been thrown went over his head and slammed into two trees, splitting the wood and sending both trees tumbling to the ground.

“Sammy!” Dean yelled.

“I’m okay,” he yelled back, standing up and continuing to dart between the trees as there was a deafening roar of fury from behind him.

Sam made a noise of surprise when he felt someone grab his arm and he was yanked forcefully behind a large tree, where Hermione stood beside him and Dean was hidden behind the tree to the right of them.

“What the fuck is that thing!” Dean cursed.

“Ogre,” Hermione panted. “Don’t worry though, it’s only young, I would say no older than twelve.”

“Oh, well that makes everything alright then,” Dean said, glaring at her and she laughed at him.

“Don’t be a baby, ogres are only a level three on the scale of classification for magical creatures and beings,” she responded.

“Just how many levels are there?” Sam breathed heavily, looking down at her.

“There used to be five, but a few years ago it was upped to six. Level one is for those considered boring, level two is for those that are relatively harmless, level three is for those in which competent magical folk can deal with, level four is for those that are dangerous and requires magical folk to have specialised knowledge and skills, level five is for those that are known to be magical folk killers and are extremely dangerous and hard to defeat. Level six is a fate worse than death.”

“What’s worse than death?” Sam asked.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“And that ogre is only a level three?” Dean questioned, looking surprised and wincing when another deafening roar carried through the wind.

“Yes, it is, and as I said, it’s no older than twelve, imagine the damage a fully grown adult can do when they reach heights of fourteen feet.” He didn’t look pleased by what his imagination conjured up. “I told you the creatures I deal with are dangerous, you’ve now seen a level three classification, imagine a level five.”

“What’s considered a level five?” Sam asked, looking as though he didn’t actually want to know the answer.

“Shit! Run!” Hermione yelled, and everyone dived to the side as a club came down on the trees, splintering the wood and sending it flying in every possible direction.

The darted through the trees and they continued running even though their lungs were burning, they had pains in their sides and their legs were aching.

“There it is!” Hermione yelled in joy when she saw the entrance to a well-hidden cave. “That’s the entryway into the Wizarding World, it’ll take the ogre straight back to its mother!”

“Well it’s about fucking time!” Dean yelled, turning to glare at her, and then ducking around a tree before he could smack straight into it.

She skidded to stop, standing in front of the cave with her wand held tightly in her hand, as her curls surrounded her, sweat glistened on her forehead and her chest heaved erratically.

“Stand on either side of the entrance, and don’t move, we don’t want to confuse it,” she instructed the brothers and both did as she said; in the previous weeks, they had learned that Hermione knew best and they were least likely to get injured, or to face her wrath if they did as she said.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered, her eyes locking on the young ogre as it came into view, smashing down a tree with its club in rage, and when it saw her, it let out a roar and charged towards her.

“Hermione, whatever you’re doing, you better do it quickly!” Sam warned, his eyes on the hideous green skin and the large tusks of the creature that was heading straight for her.

Hermione ignored him, she had her eyes on the ogre watching its progress, but she was too busy focusing her magic and summoning it until it congregated in her stomach, ready for her to cast the most powerful Knockback Jinx she had ever cast.

She took a deep breath and prepared herself.

“HERMIONE! MOVE!” Dean yelled.

Hermione waited, and she waited, ignoring the yells from the brothers, and when the ogre was about to take her out, she jumped and slid through its legs, as it went tumbling into the cave, getting stuck between the narrow walls.

“ _FLIPENDO_!” She shouted, her body twisted around and her wand pointed at the ogre with its back to her.

The spell slammed into the ogre’s arse and the force of it pushed it through the mouth of the cave. Its roar of fury died down as it passed through the entrance into the Wizarding World.

She was breathing heavily as she stared at the cave, listening for any movement inside, but there wasn’t any. She slowly stood up, walking over to the entrance of the cave and she crouched down, seeing the black goo that covered the ground, clumping together a pile of fallen leaves.

She raised her eyes to the cave and then back down to the ground and an idea crossed her mind. She stood and focused her wand and her attention on the cave and the brothers watched in silence, as the mouth of the cave began to glow a soft gold, Hermione dipped her finger into the black goo and then pressed it to the cave walls, and the cave glowed red, before returning to normal.

“What did you just do?” Sam asked.

“I’ve placed wards around the cave, sealing it as a point of crossing between both worlds, only for ogres though.”

“How did you do that?”

“See that black goo?” She gestured down to it. “That’s ogre blood, the spell I hit it with injured it. I was able to use the blood to create ogre specific wards, to prevent them from coming back through.”

“You said Blood Magic was illegal,” Dean pointed out amused, leaning against the cave with his arms crossed.

“It is, so don’t be telling anyone what you just witnessed, I would rather use an illegal form of magic to prevent future injuries, than have possible deaths on my conscience. We got lucky that no one was hurt this time, and I won’t allow there to be another incident, not if I can help it,” she responded.

She then turned and began walking in the opposite direction, hearing the brothers falling in step on either side of her.

“Dragons, chimaeras, wampus cats, horned serpents, basilisks and acromantula, to name a few.”

“What?” Sam asked confused.

“Level five classifications,” she answered.

“Dragons?”

“As in the fire breathing and flying kind,” she nodded.

“Chimeras?”

“Head of a lion, body of a goat and the tail of a dragon.”

“Wampus cats?”

“Basically a mountain lion that is able to walk on its hind legs, it can outrun arrows and it’s said its eyes have hypnotic abilities.”

“Horned serpents?”

“They vary in size and there are several species, some have jewels encrusted into their horns, jewels that are said to grant you the abilities of flight and invisibility and they are highly venomous.”

“Basilisks?”

“Twenty-foot long snakes, that kill by looking you in the eye.”

“Acromantula?”

“Giant, _giant,_ spiders that eat anything, including humans.”

“What the fuck is wrong with your world?” Dean asked bluntly, Sam smacked him on the back of the head and she laughed at him.

“That’s the question I’ve been asking myself for a long time.”

~000~000~000~

**Four days later...**

“A what now?” Hermione questioned with a confused frown on her face, as she sat on the edge of the bed in their motel room.

“A lamia,” Sam repeated.

“And what’s a lamia?”

“There’s two versions in mythology, one in which she’s a beautiful woman that appears as a human and she attracts the attention of men, seducing them and later killing them by sucking the blood from their hearts. And the second is that Lamia was the Mistress of Zeus, and in a jealous rage, Hera killed all of Lamia’s children and cursed her into a demon that devours children.”

“Lovely,” Hermione commented, rolling her eyes. “And you say my world is strange.”

Dean snorted and she turned to look behind her, where Dean was reclined on the bed with his hands behind his head and his legs crossed at the ankles.

“Your world is strange, but so is ours,” he shrugged.

“How do we deal with a lamia?” Hermione asked, turning her attention back to Sam.

“Two ways, the first being to use a silver knife that’s been blessed by a priest, and the other is the easier method, which is using a blend of rosemary and salt and burning the lamia with fire.”

“I have some rosemary in my bag, and we have bucket loads of salt,” she thought aloud.

“Like I said, the easy option.”

“Have you dealt with a lamia before?” She asked.

“Yes,” she turned her head to see Dean’s grimace and she raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t elaborate further.

“We know the victims have been disappearing from the same bar, we just need to head there and hopefully one of us will catch the attention of the lamia,” Sam said.

~000~000~000~

“She’s terrifying,” Sam muttered, standing beside the panting Dean and leaning back slightly away from the flickering flames as they devoured the screeching lamia, of which Hermione was responsible for.

“It just had to be you, didn’t it? Especially since you’re the one with the girlfriend,” Sam commented, and he noted that Dean didn’t correct him on the way he referred to his relationship with Hermione, which meant their relationship was a lot more serious than Sam had previously thought.

Dean didn’t respond; his eyes were focused on Hermione’s figure, as she stood in front of the burning lamia that had collapsed to the ground, her wand pointed and her frame tense and angry.

Well, it wasn’t his fault!

He hadn’t expected the lamia to follow him to the bathroom and stick her tongue down his throat.

He hadn’t expected Hermione to appear out of anywhere with a truly terrifying look on her face, nor for her to grab the lamia by the hair and apparate into the alleyway behind the bar.

By the time he and Sam had reached them, the lamia was already soaked with the rosemary and salt blend, and Hermione had thrown a ball of fire at the blonde-haired demon.

When the body was nothing but ash, Hermione cancelled the flames and the ash was swept away in the wind. She turned around, coming face to face with the brothers, and although she appeared to be calm, Dean could see the murderous look in her eyes and he wasn’t sure if he should be afraid or turned on, and to be honest, he was a bit of both.

She pinned him with a gaze that had his heart racing and his mind swimming with thoughts of her naked and writhing beneath him. She slowly approached him, her eyes holding his and when she stopped in front of him, she dug her hand into his pocket, found his car keys and threw them to Sam, all without looking away from Dean. She then bunched her hand into his leather jacket and spun on her heel, both of them disappearing from view.

Sam blinked and looked around at the empty alleyway, and in that moment, he decided he would find some place to have dinner and he would take his time. The three of them were forced to share a motel room, getting the last room available and he didn’t want to risk traumatising himself by walking in on the pair of them. It was bad enough hearing them and he certainly didn’t need to see them.

~000~000~000~

“Shower, now!” Hermione pointed to the bathroom after landing in their motel room.

Dean blinked, getting his bearings back and then he looked down at her.

“What?” He said in surprise.

“Go shower now,” she told him, the murderous look was still in her eyes, but so was jealousy and possessiveness. “And brush your teeth.”

“What?” He repeated.

She didn’t answer this time, instead, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the bathroom, using her wand to start running the shower and she began stripping him of his clothing.

“What’s going on?” He questioned, once his leather jacket had hit the ground and his t-shirt followed, leaving the top half of his body bare and she started working at his jeans.

“I need you to shower and to brush your teeth.”

“Why?” He asked, bringing his hands up to grip hers and stopping her from pulling down his jeans.

She looked up at him and he was sure he could drown in her chocolate brown orbs.

“I don’t know why, I just need you to.”

He searched her eyes, trying to understand, but it seemed that she didn’t understand her actions either so he wasn’t getting the answers he wanted.

He busied himself with removing the rest of his clothing and Hermione turned around, busying herself at the sink. When he stepped under the hot spray of the water, Hermione’s hand appeared around the shower curtain, holding his toothbrush out to him, and he took it without question, quickly brushing his teeth and then handing it back to her, and then he heard the door closing.

Once he’d showered and made sure that there wasn’t a single trace of the lamia on him –which he deducted, had something to do with Hermione’s strange behaviour- he stepped out of the shower, drying himself off and he wrapped the towel around his hips before exiting the bathroom.

Hermione was sat on the bed, she had removed her shoes and jacket, leaving her in her t-shirt and jeans, and she stared down at the ground with a blank look on her face. When she heard the door opening, her eyes lifted from the ground locking straight on to Dean.

She stood up and he watched as she approached him, stopping in front of him and her eyes trailed the length of his body, but he knew there was nothing sexual about the action, it was as if she was looking for something, and he guessed she found it. She stepped into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly and pressed her cheek over his heart, listening to his heartbeat. His arms came up to wrap around her automatically and he rested his chin on top of her head.

“What was all that about?” He asked, hoping that now she had taken some time to think things over, she would’ve sorted through her thoughts.

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I just couldn’t control my reaction to her kissing you and I needed you to shower because you smelled like her,” she answered and he could tell from her tone that she wasn’t lying to him. Mind, she had never lied to him, if anything, she was one hundred percent truthful.

“You’re mine,” she whispered.

“What?” He replied as he hadn’t heard her properly.

“You’re mine,” she repeated, a little louder.

Dean couldn’t explain it, his stomach dropped, his heart clenched tightly and his length twitched at her words and the possessiveness to her tone. And he agreed with her. He didn’t know why, but he knew her words were right; he was hers.

“And you’re mine,” he replied, truly meaning the words.

“Yes, I am,” she agreed. “Always,” she whispered, without realising that word had left her mouth.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 6

**Two days later...**

“I got an owl today,” she spoke as she and Dean settled down for the night, climbing into bed in their motel room in Durham, North Carolina, as they were going to start investigating the case of a possible ghost possession in the morning.

“When? I never saw an owl,” Dean questioned, pulling her into him and feeling amused as she snuggled into him, seeking warmth like a kitten.

He supposed her behaviour made sense to him, after knowing why the feline traits appeared during sex, he had come to recognize that she was more feline in her mannerisms than he previously realised. She was fast. She was graceful. She was crafty. And she was affectionate, but when riled up she was fierce and she hissed and spit like an angry little kitten.

“When you went to get dinner,” she shrugged. “It was from Kingsley.”

“What’d it say, do you have a case?”

“No, it was to inform me that my presence is required back in England.”

His hand paused in the movement of trailing his fingers over her back and under his shirt which she wore to bed. “Why?”

“I’m needed to testify against those that were captured during the battle, the MLE Department have finally finished processing those caught and they’re now able to identify all those involved and trials are due to start. Whilst I’m back in England, I also need to call a quarterly meeting and participate in the training of some new possible recruits.”

“When are you leaving and how long will you be gone?”

“He needs me back in England by the end of next week, and I should be gone no more than two weeks.”

“Will you come back?” He questioned calmly, but Hermione could sense his true feelings. He was worried that she would leave him. That she might realise how much she missed her family and decide to stay.

“As soon as I can, I’ll come back to you,” she promised, placing a kiss to the underside of his jaw and settling back down against him.

~000~000~000~

**Two days later...**

“What the hell is a grindylow?” Dean frowned, sitting at the bench in the middle of the park in Huntington, West Virginia, surrounded by screaming and laughing children and their parents.

“A grindylow, they’re better known as horned water demons.”

“Well that’s comforting,” he said sarcastically and she rolled her eyes at him. Sam chuckled at them both.

“So, what’s their deal?” Sam asked.

“They vary in size and they can grow up to five feet when they reach adulthood, their skin is a sickly green colour and their eyes are either white or yellow. They have horns on their head and octopus-like tentacles, as well as long nails on their hands. I’m pretty sure it’s what we’re dealing with, although they aren’t really seen in this part of the world, they’re native to Britain and Ireland, so it’s a mystery as to how they ended up here.” She said thoughtfully. “And there isn’t just one of them; they breed uncontrollably so there’s likely to be thousands of them.”

“Great,” Dean sighed.

“In folklore grindylows are said to have snatched children and dragged them down to the bottom of the lake or pond bed if they got to close to the water, drowning them and later eating their carcasses.”

“Lovely,” he commented and she slapped him on the arm.

“Don’t be complaining, grindylows are only a level two.”

“And that ogre was a level three, I think your world needs to re-evaluate your classification levels,” he replied and she nodded, conceding his point.

“They are rather nasty, they’re surprisingly strong for something so fragile looking. They can easily drag a fully grown adult weighing more than three hundred pounds to the bottom of the lake bed.”

“How do we deal with them? There’s already been two children found dead in the last week alone,” Sam spoke.

“There’s probably more that have yet to resurface,” Hermione said sadly. “As I said, there’s likely to be thousands in that lake,” of which she nodded to the lake behind them. “As far as getting rid of them goes, it’s easy enough, we just have to boil them alive.”

“And how do we do that?”

“With magic,” she shrugged. “I’ll place Disillusionment Charms on us and we’ll hide out until the park closes for the night, then we’ll take care of it.”

~000~000~000~

“That was surprisingly easy,” Dean commented, his arm wrapped around Hermione’s shoulders as they made their way to the locked gates of the park.

Hermione glared at him and Sam chuckled.

“That’s easy for you to say, the little demons didn’t try to gouge your eyes out, and you’re not the one covered in grindylow goo.” She gestured to herself, indicating to the awful smelling green slime that covered her clothing.

He shrugged. “You should’ve seen it coming.”

“No, it was unexpected because I’ve never seen a bloody grindylow jump out from the water and fly at someone’s face before, nor have I ever had to blow them up,” she scowled.

“I thought it was hilarious,” he smirked at her.

“Do you know what else is hilarious?” She asked sweetly.

“What?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You sleeping in the car tonight,” she smiled at him innocently and left him when he stopped walking in surprise.

“You’ve met your match with her,” Sam laughed, patting Dean and the shoulder and catching up to Hermione as she magically opened the gates.

~000~000~000~

**Two days later...**

“Hermione?”

“Yes, Sam,” she responded, looking up from her book, as they were driving towards their next case, in Richmond, Virginia, where there had been several disappearances of children in the last month.

“Are griffins real?”

“Yes,” she answered, and he made a strange noise in the back of his throat that amused her.

“Griffins? As in the head and wings of an eagle and the body of a lion? That griffin?” Dean questioned, turning back to look at her with slightly wide eyes, and she bit back a laugh.

“Yes, those griffins and they are very much real. I’ve never come across one myself, they’re native to Greece and believe it or not, they only have a classification level of four. They live in the wild and on a few rare occasions it has been recorded that a wizard has been able to befriend a griffin and convince them to protect their valuables in return for raw meat.”

“But they’re mythological creatures,” Sam blurted out.

“Our lives are filled with nothing but mythological and magical creatures and the supernatural.”

“But, they can’t be real, that’s just taking things a step too far.”

She chuckled at him. “Don’t bother asking about a sphinx or pegasus then.”

Sam made a strangled sound and she burst into laughter.

“SHIT!” Dean cursed and she found herself being thrown across the seat as Dean swerved the car dangerously and it skidded to a stop.

“Is everyone alright?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she groaned, after knocking her head during the tumble.

“I’m good,” Sam nodded, rubbing at his neck.

“What the hell happened?” She asked.

Dean looked over his shoulder, looking out the back window and she followed his gaze and her eyes widened at what she saw.

“Harry,” she whispered.

“He happened; he appeared out of nowhere in front of me, I almost hit him.”

They all clambered out of the car and Harry quickly made his way to them, meeting them halfway.

“Harry James Potter! What the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at? We could’ve killed you!” Harry winced and he rubbed at the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly, “But I didn’t have time to wait until you pulled over somewhere; we’ve got an emergency.”

Hermione’s scolding ended before it could even start. “What’s wrong?” She stood taller and he knew he had her attention, just as he had the attention of the two brothers standing on either side of her.

“Luna’s gone into labour.”

“Excuse me?” She questioned surprised; she hadn’t expected that.

“Luna’s in labour.”

“But she’s not due for another two weeks,” she replied dumbly.

“We know that, as far the healer and midwife can tell, Luna and the baby are both fine. When I left to get you she was almost fully dilated. She’s been screaming the manor down for you,” he winced, rubbing at his ears as if still hearing her cries.

She blinked before turning around, her eyes locking on Dean’s. She was due to leave for England in a few days time and she would be away for two weeks, she had not expected Luna to go into labour, nor for her to leave earlier than she had planned.

“You need to go,” Dean spoke, noticing that both Harry and Sam vacated their vicinity to allow them to talk. “Your friend needs you, you were going back to England anyway, a few days earlier than expected won’t make much difference,” he said, but she could tell he didn’t want her to leave, it was written as clear as day across his face, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

She didn’t want to leave, but Luna needed her and she was needed back in England.

She sighed. “Are you going to be okay without me?” She asked him.

He gave her a lopsided smile. “Sweetheart, we’ll be fine, we’re not amateurs, you know?”

“Believe me, I’m aware,” she said dryly. “But it’s also my understanding that you seem to get injured when I’m not around.”

He shrugged; neither denying it nor admitting it.

“We’ll be fine,” he repeated. “Is there any way for us to contact you so we can give you our location once you return?”

“Not really, but it doesn’t matter, I have my ways of finding you without us needing to correspond,” she replied, he raised an eyebrow at her but she didn’t elaborate further.

She summoned her beaded bag from inside the car and dug around inside of it, pulling out the key card for the lift to her apartment building.

“Here,” she handed it to him and he looked at it confused. “It’s the key card to the lift in my apartment building,” she told him and he looked down at her softly. “I won’t be back for close to three weeks now that I’m leaving early, if you get a respite from cases, you can stay at my apartment. You have the key card and the house-elves will make sure you have everything you need. The access code for entry to my floor is 01-09-1991.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “The 1st of September 1991, is the day my life changed completely, to me, it’s the most important date in history. I hope you know how much trust I’m putting in you by giving you this. No one, not even Harry, has a key card or the access code.” He felt his heart swell at her words, at the trust she so obviously had in him. “Now, please be careful, and I’ll see you soon.”

She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him, but before she could pull away, his hands went to the back of her neck, keeping her to him as he slipped his tongue through her parted lips to tangle with hers, and she gripped his jacket in her hands.

She pulled back from him and rested her forehead against his. “I’ll be back before you know it, at least I’m not in any danger,” she told him, smiling a little smile.

She kissed him once more, and then pulled back from him, moving over to Harry and Sam. She and Sam hugged and she kissed his cheek.

“I’ll be back soon, and please take care of each other.”

“We always do,” he promised and they pulled back from each other.

She took a hold of the port key Harry held out to her, and the last thing they saw was her smile before she disappeared.

“She’ll be back in a couple of weeks,” Sam told Dean, clapping him on his shoulder. “We better get on with this case, so we have something to tell Hermione when she gets back.”

Dean nodded, but he still stared at the spot where Hermione had been standing, even as Sam climbed back into the car.

He looked down at the key card in his hand and he felt his mouth twitch into a sad smile. He would miss her presence; there was no point in denying it. And he just hoped the next few weeks went quickly.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 6

Dean missed Hermione. It was as simple as that. He missed her sleeping in his arms. He missed her seeking out his warmth. He missed her wild hair. He missed her smell of apples and caramel. He missed her laughter and her wittiness. He missed listening to her explain about the magical creatures she dealt with and he missed teaching her about the supernatural. He missed her playful bickering with Sam and her creative taunts and insults, which were usually aimed at him.

For the first few days, he had been physically fine. His sleeping had suffered, meaning he barely got any and it seemed that his nightmares had gotten worse since Hermione had left and they usually left him awake or only allowed him a few hours of sleep at best. His mood had most definitely changed of which Sam had noticed. Dean was...Sullen, grumpy, exhausted. He hadn’t smiled or laughed since Hermione left, and he put all of his efforts into working cases to distract him. And Sam was forced to watch Dean’s mood and health spiral out of control.

Aside from the lack of sleep, Dean had a longing deep inside of him and it grew stronger by the day. He longed to be in Hermione’s presence. He longed for Hermione to be in his arms. He longed to be surrounded by her smell. He longed to feel her raised scars and soft curves under his fingers as she slept. And it was easy enough to push aside when he was busy working a case, but then he’d go back to his shared motel room with Sam and he’d be reminded of his feelings as he stared at the ceiling, listening to Sam’s snores and thinking about nothing but Hermione. Without her, he felt lonely, he felt cold and empty.

On the fifth day of her absence came the headaches. They were barely noticeable at first, but they grow stronger as time went on and nothing eased the pain, not pain killers and certainly not alcohol which seemed to make it worse. It was making his already bad mood worse. He was irritable and Sam felt sorry for those they were hunting, Dean had been particularly vicious when they had taken out the succubus and even Dean could admit that.

Then came the dizzy spells and Dean had lost count of the number of times he’d almost fainted when on the job and it was a hindrance; it'd caused Sam to get injured when they took out a nest of three vampires. Then the aches and pains in his body made themselves known. He felt as though he not only had a monstrous hangover, but as though he’d gone several rounds with a pissed werewolf and been thrown off a building. And to make it worse, there was a dull ache in his chest where his heart was, and he often found himself rubbing the area as if that would ease the pain, but it never did.

After that, the nausea showed up and Dean had finally lost his cool. He had almost thrown up when they’d been at the diner and the pie he’d ordered was placed in front of him. He almost lost his lunch when they entered the rather foul-smelling motel room they were staying in and the smell of his cheeseburger had knocked him on his arse.

He hadn’t been the same since Hermione left. He knew it and Sam definitely knew it, since he was always on the end of Dean’s mood swings, and Dean thought that Sam was a saint, because if the roles were reversed he most certainly would’ve put a bullet in him by this point.

His appearance was the most alarming of changes. He hadn’t lost weight since Sam forced him to eat regardless of the nausea, but you could tell he wasn’t sleeping. He was exhausted and it showed in the bruises under his eyes. His hair was often stood out at odd angles since he couldn’t stop himself from running his hands through it in frustration, and his skin was a sickly colour.

On the tenth day of Hermione’s absence, Sam had put his foot down and knowing something wasn’t right, he had informed Bobby that they were passing the case they were set to work over to Ellen and Jo, and they were heading to his salvage yard.

Sam had not allowed Dean to drive in his state, being afraid that it would cost both of them their lives. And so during the entire journey to Bobby’s, Dean had laid on the back seat, using the pillow that Hermione had left in the car for when she took naps, nestling his head and he had found a jumper belonging to Hermione which she had left in the car, and he held it close to him, being surrounded by her scent, which lulled him into a fitful sleep.

Sam being too worried for his brother’s rapidly deteriorating health had driven through the night, only stopping for bathroom breaks and food, and once for a few hours so he could get some sleep. They arrived at Bobby’s midday the next morning and Dean was barely able to walk. He had been deposited on the couch in the living room and left as Sam and Bobby scoured the library for anything that may be of help to them, leaving Dean with Hermione’s pillow and jumper.

It was the twelfth day of Hermione’s absence that was the most frightening, as Sam and Bobby woke to the sight of Dean groaning in his sleep, his hands gripping at the blanket that covered him. His clothing was sweat-soaked and stuck to his frame and sweat was beading down his forehead.

They both looked at each at a loss of what to do, the research they had been doing was useless, especially since they didn’t have a starting point or reference to pinpoint what to look for. All Sam knew was that it had begun when Hermione left, and he wondered if it had anything to do with her and their strange relationship.

Dean started mumbling in his sleep and they approached him, straining their hearing to decipher his words.

“Hermione. Hermione. Hermione,” he mumbled with a pained groan.

Their eyes widened. So it was connected to Hermione?

“Cas! We’ve got a problem!” Sam called, watching his brother as he writhed on the couch. In retrospect, they probably should’ve called him a long time ago, but the thought had slipped their minds.

“Sam?” The Angel questioned as he appeared in the doorway, his head tilted to the side.

“Dean,” was all he said and Castiel turned his attention to Dean, a frown appearing on his face as he approached him.

“Strange,” he muttered, before lifting a hand and pressing it against Dean’s chest, his frown deepened and neither Sam nor Bobby like the look he wore on his face. 

He suddenly looked up, his eyes looking to the ceiling and a look of concentration filled his features and he tilted his head to the side, as if he was listening to something.

“I will be back.”

“But...” Sam didn’t get chance to finish his words as the Angel disappeared, and the two men were left alone, looking down at the increasingly worsening Dean.

~000~000~000~

It had been ten days since Hermione had returned to England and those ten days had been very busy. The port key she had taken with Harry took them straight through the wards of Malfoy Manor, Tipsy the house-elf escorted Hermione straight to Luna’s rooms and the moment she entered, her ears were assaulted with screams and her eyes were met with the sight of Draco passed out on the ground, and Luna giving birth.

She had winced when Luna screamed her name and quickly rushed over to her bedside, allowing her fingers to be broken as she held Luna’s hand. Hermione was used to it by this point, having been present at Ginny’s labours with James, Albus _and_ Lily, and Ginny had broken her fingers, too, each and every time.

When the wails of the newborn met her ears and he was cleaned up and passed to Luna, Hermione sat on the side of the bed with her friend, both cooing at the blue bundle in Luna’s arms. And much to Hermione’s amusement, he was a spitting double of Draco, with the signature Malfoy blonde hair.

Once Draco had come around and held his newborn son, Luna and Draco sprung the news that Scorpios Malfoy was to be her Godson. She, of course, accepted through tears of joy, and once she had bear-hugged Draco, cuddled with Scorpios and gently hugged Luna, she left the Malfoys alone and returned to her apartment in London, which admittedly, she had neglected and therefore needed a few Cleaning Charms to be passed over it.

And every day since her return, she tried her best to visit with The Malfoys, Potters and each of The Weasley families, whilst also starting her duties at work early, helping to train the new recruits, not only for her department, but for Harry’s too, since it was more of a general training period, and once the recruits had passed their final Auror exams, they would get the choice of which department they wanted to work in and they would go through specialised training afterwards.

And it was during these ten days that she realised how much she missed both Sam and Dean. She missed their presence. She missed their bickering. She missed their admittedly amusing and creative insults and arguments. She missed their time on the road, since it was never boring and they always found something to keep them entertained. She missed not being able to converse with Sam about anything and everything. She missed learning about the supernatural and teaching them about the Wizarding World. And most importantly, she missed Dean.

There was a longing inside of her that as each day away from him went by, it got stronger and stronger, to the point where it was physically making her sick. The first few days had been fine, she had missed them, but she had work to keep her busy and to keep her distracted.

It was when she came back to her empty apartment that she truly missed Dean. She missed not being able to sleep beside him, she missed not being able to snuggle into his warmth, she missed his scent of motor oil, gun powder and soap. She missed his fingers trailing her skin and his body pressed to hers. She missed his breathing ticking her neck and disturbing her curls.

And since her return, she had not slept, her nightmares being unbearable as Dean wasn’t there to keep them at bay. And during one particularly exhausting day, she had resorted to taking a Dreamless Sleep Potion, which she hadn’t done in over a month, not since the night she was almost raped by Bowman.

After the fifth day of being back in England, longing wasn’t the only thing she felt. She had started getting headaches, at first they were barely noticeable and she could handle them, but they grew stronger and stronger, to the point where a Pain Potion no longer dulled the pain. And after the headaches started, she started having dizzy spells and she would often find herself walking down a corridor at The Ministry and she would have to sit down, whether it was in a chair or on the floor.

After the dizzy spells came the aches and pains. Her entire body ached, as if she’d gone ten rounds with an ogre, werewolf _and_ troll and then been hit by the Knight Bus afterwards, and it wasn’t just her body that ached, but her heart, too. She felt as though she were empty inside, lonely and cold, and she hated it.

After the aches came the nausea and it happened at the most random of times; walking past someone who was eating lunch at their desk or getting a whiff of someone’s aftershave or perfume when they crossed in the halls. Even standing up too fast could result in making her feel sick and she would have to sit back down.

Harry had noticed and had asked her to visit the healer and to do a pregnancy test since that was where all the signs were pointing. Hermione knew there was no possible way she was pregnant, but to appease Harry, she went to see her healer, Healer Susan Bones. Tests had been run, having known her medical history, they all came back negative. No one knew what was wrong with Hermione, and according to the results, she was fine, but they could all see that couldn’t be further from the truth.

She looked exhausted. She looked to have lost weight. She looked sickly with her pale skin and her usually wild ringlets were dull and lifeless. They just assumed she had the flu and she was run down. The healers may not know what was wrong with Hermione, but she believed it had something to do with Dean; it was the only explanation she could come up with, and it wasn’t that farfetched as her relationship with Dean had been strange from the very start.

It was on the twelfth day of being in England when Hermione hadn’t turned up for work, and Harry knowing Hermione and her love for her job, knew something wasn’t right, and so he floo’d to her apartment, where he found her in her bedroom.

“Hermione!” He yelled in a panic and he rushed over to her beside.

Hermione lay in her bed, the covers pooled at her waist and her hands gripping the sheets as she let out quiet groans, her head moving from side to side on her pillow. He could see the way her t-shirt was glued to her and the sweat that covered her body. Her skin was a sickly grey colour, her eyes looked sunken and her cheekbones stuck out. Her hair looked greasy and mattered beyond belief as it stuck to her forehead and neck, and as Harry reached out to push her hair away from her forehead, he winced as the temperature of her skin hurt to touch. She was running a fever. A very high fever.

His panic levels were rising by the second. She hadn’t opened her eyes or acknowledged his presence, making him believe she was still asleep.

Harry did the only thing he could think of doing, he summoned a cool damp cloth and pressed it to her forehead. Through her groans, she had started to mutter and he lowered his head closer to her, trying to decipher her jumbled words.

“Dean. Dean. Dean.” She repeated in a pained mumble and his eyes widened.

Why was she calling for Dean? Did he have something to do with her condition?

Harry’s eyes swept her frail-looking frame once more before he made a decision. The healers hadn’t been able to find anything wrong with her. He had no other options left, he only hoped that what he was about to do would work.

“I don’t know how this works, but she needs you. Castiel, Hermione needs you.”

Harry waited and waited and his panic continued to grow when there was no answer, until suddenly there was a blinding light in the room and he was forced to shield his eyes. As the light dulled, Harry opened his eyes to see the Angel wings shadowed on the wall and then they were gone, leaving the trench coat wearing Angel.

“This is most strange,” the Angel frowned.

“Strange? It’s fucking terrifying,” Harry said hysterically.

Castiel looked to him and blinked before moving over to Hermione and pressing his hand to Hermione’s chest, his frown deepening.

“Interesting,” he mumbled, seeming not to care that his hand was currently pressed in-between her breasts, as she writhed beneath his hold.

“Interesting? What’s interesting?” Harry rushed out.

The Angel didn’t answer, rather he bent down and picked Hermione up in his arms.

“Where are you taking her?”

“Where she needs to be,” he answered.

“To Dean,” Harry whispered in understanding. “I want answers,” he spoke, and then the Angel was gone.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

Bobby and Sam both turned their wide eyes to Castiel as he appeared in the living room, and not alone. He had a mumbling and writhing Hermione in his arms, and if they thought Dean looked bad, Hermione was worse. Even from the distance between them, they could tell she’d lost weight and if it wasn’t for the mumbling and writhing, they would think she was dead, judging by her waxy and sickly appearance.

“Cas? What the hell’s going on?” Sam demanded to know.

Castiel didn’t answer him, rather he walked over to the couch where Dean lay.

“Jesus!” Sam cursed and Bobby grumbled when there was a loud ‘thud’ and Harry appeared beside them, looking worried and his eyes widened when he saw that Dean was in a similar state to Hermione.

“You too?” he mumbled.

Sam seemed to understand what Harry was referring to. “Yeah, me too,” he replied.

Harry pulled his wand as the Angel stared down at the couch confused, obviously wondering how the furniture would fit two people. In front of their eyes, the couch transfigured into a double bed and Castiel didn’t speak as he lowered Hermione onto the mattress beside Dean and then he stepped back.

They watched in silence as their mumblings of the other’s name stopped and in their sleep, they shifted closer to each other until they were touching, Hermione’s chest to Dean’s side.

Their pained groans and writhing stopped immediately after that and they both let out sighs in their sleep, the three humans looked to each other, and then back to Castiel as he continued to observe the sleeping pair.

“What the hell is going on?” Harry spoke, voicing the question they all wanted answers to.

The Angel finally tore his gaze away from Hermione and Dean and turned to face them.

“I believe there is more to their relationship than meets the eye,” he frowned.

“You don’t say?” Sam snapped, fed up with all of the tiptoeing around the subject. “You haven’t seen them together, Cas. Not like I have. You haven’t seen the way they respond to each other or the way they behave towards one another. Dean actually planned the deaths of twenty-three men for daring to touch Hermione! Hermione killed a lamia for kissing Dean. She killed a witch for threatening Dean’s life! He listens to her. He watches her when she’s reading a book; he just sits there and stares at her as if it’s not creepy as hell. I’ve never seen Dean possessive of anyone, ever! And now, anyone that looks her way receives death glares or promises of pain and death. And to make it worse, they’re like fucking bunnies when it comes to sex. It’s not normal!” He exploded, but he was mindful to keep his voice as quiet as possible to not wake the sleeping pair.

Harry blinked in surprise since most of what Sam had said was news to him. Bobby was also shocked into silence, his mouth ajar slightly.

Castiel looked as stoic as usual, although Sam’s statement regarding what Castiel had and hadn’t seen wasn’t exactly true. He had sensed a strange aura between Hermione and Dean the day they met, and since then, he had been observing them whenever he had the chance. He had seen their arguments and disagreements, the teasing and playful way they insulted each other. He’d seen the possessiveness and protectiveness they each had for the other. He’d seen the trust and respect grow between them and of the night when they first had sex, he had been drawn to them by the surge of power that had radiated from them. Castiel had spent most of the night covering Hermione’s apartment building in Enochian sigils and Demon wardings to prevent anyone else from being drawn to it, and he was sure, many already had been.

“I do not know what is happening between Hermione and Dean, but I do know it’s supernatural.” All eyes widened, particularly Sam’s since his suspicions were finally confirmed.

“Hermione wouldn’t do anything of the sort, and she would never take away someone’s free will,” Harry glared at the two Hunters, defending Hermione before anything could be said against her.

“Harry is correct,” the Angel nodded, and all eyes returned to him. “This is neither Hermione’s nor Dean’s fault. Neither are to blame and neither are the cause of their strange relationship. I believe there is something far more serious involved.”

“And that is?” Bobby asked gruffly, crossing his arms and his eyes falling to the sleeping duo and then back to Castiel.

The Angel frowned. “I am certain I’ve seen this before, but I cannot recall when. How has Dean been the last few days?” He asked.

Sam blinked. “He was fine for the first few days, but I could tell he missed Hermione. He started getting headaches and dizziness, he kept throwing up and he was very... _Temperamental_ ,” he winced, just thinking about the way Dean had taken out the vampire from one of their cases. “I know he hasn’t been sleeping and he only ate because I forced him to, after a week had passed I brought him here since it was clear there was something wrong with him, and it all started after Hermione had left.”

The Angel nodded and then turned to Harry.

“And Hermione?”

Harry frowned, thinking back to her time in London.

“Well, she seemed fine for the first few days, it was obvious she wasn’t sleeping but that’s nothing new, we all have trouble sleeping after the war, Hermione more so since she suffered under the hands of both Bellatrix and Dolohov. I have my wife and kids, which help to manage my nightmares, Hermione didn’t have anyone until she met Dean,” he confessed.

“She looked more rested and healthier than I’ve seen in a long time, since we were kids actually and that’s how I was able to notice the differences in her quickly. She got headaches and as time went by they got stronger and even Pain Potions couldn’t help, and she had dizzy spells and nausea. She went to the hospital and they ran some tests, everything came back negative, so they just assumed she had the flu and was run down. When she didn’t turn up to work this morning, I knew something wasn’t right and that’s when I found her, in a similar state to Dean.”

Castiel looked pensive and as if making a decision, he nodded to himself.

“I must check the archives.”

“You can’t leave, you need to stay with them, to heal them,” Sam spoke.

The Angel shook his head. “I cannot heal them, this is not a physical injury, more of an emotional one, and I cannot interfere in that. I suspect that since they are together again, their health will improve. For now, it’s best to leave them be and to not disturb them. I am unaware of how long they will remain sleeping, but there is no danger that I can sense.” With those words, the Angel disappeared from view.

“Well, that explained so much, thank you,” Harry said sarcastically, Bobby and Sam grumbled in agreement. Harry then sighed and rubbed his hand over his face.

“As much as I don’t want to leave, I have to get back so I can cover for Hermione until all of this mess is sorted out.”

“How did you find us anyway?” Sam asked, his eyes once again on Hermione and Dean, who despite their sickly appearances, looked peaceful.

“Hermione and I are able to track each other in case of emergencies. I figured out Castiel was bringing Hermione to Dean, so I waited and then tracked her here, once I locked onto her location, I port keyed, which is going to be a pain in the arse to explain.”

“Why?”

“I may have used an illegal port key that wasn’t approved for use,” he replied.

He then dug into the pocket of his robes and pulled out Hermione’s wand and beaded bag, placing them on the coffee table. He dug his hand in and emerged with several potion vials.

“These are Nutrition Potions, similar to a muggle IV. If you give them both a third of the vial at each mealtime, it’ll give their bodies the nutrition it needs and it should help Hermione to put on weight. Since we don’t know how long they’re going to be out for, I’ll return tomorrow to check up on her.”

He walked over to Hermione and leaned over pushing her sweaty hair away from her forehead and he sighed when he felt that her fever had gone and her temperature was back to normal. He leaned down and placed a kiss to her head and then he stood, and before their eyes, he disappeared from view.

~000~000~000~

It had been days since Hermione and Dean had been reunited and they had yet to waken. For the past four days, Bobby had tended to his duties as being Information Central for the Hunters and Sam had helped him, whilst also watching over Hermione and Dean.

Despite them not having woken yet, they could see an improvement in their health, in fact, they both looked to be back to normal, with their complexions returning, the bruises under their eyes had disappeared and neither made a sound in their sleep. The only exception was that Hermione was still a little thinner than normal, but that would be fixed after a few good home-cooked meals.

Harry had visited once a day since the incident, hoping for good news on Hermione’s condition, but there was never any. Instead, he sat with Bobby and Sam drinking a beer, and then running Cleaning Charms over the sleeping duo, they would need to shower properly once they wake, but it would do for now. Afterwards, he would head home to his wife and kids, before returning the next day and repeating the process, watching as they slept.

They may have been silent in their sleep, but they hadn’t been still, in fact, sometime during the second day of their slumber, they had shifted so that Hermione’s head was on Dean’s chest and his arms were around her.

On the third day of their slumber, it was revealed that Dean’s hands had slipped under Hermione’s shirt, pressing against the skin of her back and Hermione was practically draped over him. And on the fourth day, they had both moved so that Dean laid on his back with Hermione sprawled on his chest on top of him, her ear pressed to his heart and her hands either on his chest or wrapped around his neck, and Dean’s hands were under her shirt and buried in her hair.

They hadn’t moved all day and after going about their routine, Bobby and Sam headed off to bed, leaving the slumbering couple alone.

And it was during the early hours of the morning when Hermione and Dean both woke, their eyes slowly fluttering open and it took them all but a second to realise they were in each other’s presence.

Dean flew up into a sitting position, inadvertently shifting Hermione to straddle him and he hugged her to him as tightly as she did in return, breathing in the other’s scent deeply.

“What happened?” Dean said, at the same time Hermione said, “We need to shower.”

They pulled back from each other, frowning at their clearly unwashed hair and faintly smelling clothing.

“Shower first, then talk,” Dean mumbled and she nodded in agreement. “We won’t fit in Bobby’s shower,” he told her and she didn’t bother correcting him by saying they could shower alone, she had also thought of showering with him.

“Mimsy,” Hermione called softly and the little house-elf appeared after a few seconds.

“Mistress! Mimsy is happy to see Mistress!” She squealed in delight, before frowning at Hermione’s appearance, and tutting. “Mistress not be takings care of herselves, bad Mistress,” she scolded and Dean buried his head in Hermione’s neck to muffle his chuckles.

“I haven’t been well Mimsy, but it seems I’m better now. Please, will you escort Dean and me to the apartment? It’s too far to apparate and my magic’s feeling a little unsettled so I can’t make a port-key or floo.”

“Mimsy do as Mistress wishes.” She reached out and took hold of Hermione’s and Dean’s wrists and there was a tug in Hermione’s stomach before she landed on her bed in her bedroom.

“Thank you, Mimsy, that’s all, please return to your rooms and have a good night’s rest.”

“Good night, Mistress, Mr. Dean,” she bowed her head.

“Night,” they both replied and once the little house-elf was gone, Hermione and Dean quickly made their way to Hermione’s bathroom, brushing their teeth and showering, of which Hermione had to fend off Dean’s wandering hands.

When they finally stepped out of the shower, Hermione pulled on her red silk robe and Dean settled for wrapping a towel about his hips. Dean followed Hermione to the kitchen where he watched as she made pancakes.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Making pancakes, I’m hungry,” she shrugged.

He felt his mouth twitch into a smile at hearing those very familiar words. He had missed her. His smile turned into a frown. What had happened? He thought back over the last couple of weeks, trying to piece everything together. He could remember the day Hermione had left and the week after, but then everything began to get hazy and then the last thing he knew, he was waking up in Bobby’s with Hermione. He was pulled away from his thoughts when Hermione placed the pancakes in front of him, along with various topping choices.

They sat at the counter and ate in silence and when they had finished their food, Hermione sent the dishes to clean themselves, as she busied herself with putting everything away.

“Do you remember anything?” He asked her.

“A little,” she confessed with a sigh, turning away from the countertop and leaning against it with her arms crossed.

Dean’s eyes zeroed in on the movement as it pushed her breasts up slightly, his eyes trailed the skin uncovered by the robe and down her legs, before forcing himself to not get sidetracked. 

“I remember the first week of being in England, after that my memory starts to blackout and then I was waking up with you.”

“Me too,” he commented, and she frowned, nibbling at her lip in thought.

“I don’t suppose you had trouble sleeping, too, did you?” She questioned. He nodded. “Headaches?” He nodded once more. “Nausea? Dizziness?” He nodded again. “Aches and pains?”

He frowned slightly. “Not physical,” he replied and her eyes fell downcast, realising what it was he meant.

“Did you miss my presence? Did you feel as though everything was different, but in a bad way?”

“Yes, you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her hand coming up to rub over her heart subconsciously, a frown on her face as if she was feeling the pain through her memories.

She looked up when she felt Dean’s hand cradle her chin and tilt her head up to look at him.

“You do realise that our relationship isn’t normal, don’t you?” She asked quietly.

“I do,” he confirmed.

“Then why don’t you appear to be worried about it? Trust me, simply being away from each other for a few days resulting in our decline in health is not normal, not even by magical standards.”

He frowned slightly, appearing to be mulling over his answer. “Honestly, it does worry me, but there’s no point in getting yourself worked up. We’ve dealt with things a lot stranger than our circumstances and one way or another, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“And if it’s something you don’t like?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For the time being, we need to remain calm and remember that we deal with crazy shit for a living.”

She snorted at him, which turned into a giggle, which turned into a laugh.

“Thanks, I needed that,” she smiled at him and he smiled down at her, placing a kiss on her forehead and she sighed, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. They stayed that way for a long time, just revelling in the presence of the other.

“We should probably get back,” Hermione broke the silence, after catching the view of the sun reflecting off the floor. “Sam and Bobby may be worried if they wake up and they realise we’re not there, and if you were anything like I was, then they had reason to worry.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” he muttered.

“Really?” She asked disbelievingly.

“Okay fine, I was,” he admitted and she chuckled.

“It’s okay, Harry forced me to go see a healer, he thought I was pregnant.”

Dean pulled back from her so fast, she almost fell forward when he stepped away from her. He had a wide-eyed look on his face and he had paled, to be perfectly honest, he looked terrified and as though he were about to faint.

“Are you?” He asked in a barely heard whispered. “We haven’t been using anything, I just assumed you had some witchy magic to prevent it since you never brought the possibility of pregnancy up, especially after our first time together.”

“I do and I’m not pregnant, it’s impossible.”

He visibly relaxed and the colour returned to his face, as he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms.

“Why? Not all protection is one-hundred percent, there’s always a risk.”

“Not with magic, it’s impossible for me to be pregnant,” she said, a sad tone edging its way into her voice. Dean frowned and he watched as she spun on her heel and headed to her bedroom.

He followed her into the wardrobe and watched as she quickly dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He looked down at himself and frowned, realising he had no clothes to wear and he didn’t fancy the idea of returning to Bobby’s in only a towel.

“Mittens,” Hermione called softly, and the little house-elf appeared in the room.

“What can Mittens do for Mistress?” He bowed and Hermione smiled at him.

“I don’t suppose you washed Dean’s clothing did you?”

“Yes, Mistress, Mittens check they be dry,” he disappeared from the room.

“We’ve barely been here an hour and he’s already taken my clothes to wash?” Dean asked.

“Yes, he does it all the time, the minute you take off a pair of socks they’re in the wash, it’s like he can sense when someone’s clothes are being removed and they need washing,” she said with a shrug and a smile.

Mittens returned with Dean’s clothing and he quickly dressed in the freshly washed and dried jeans and t-shirt. They then returned to the kitchen, where they bumped into Mimsy.

“Would Mistress and the Sir be wanting breakfast?” She asked.

Hermione looked at Dean and he shrugged in reply, knowing they had already had pancakes not too long ago.

“Just toast and a cup of coffee and tea for myself and Dean, would you please have Butter prepare breakfast for both Sam and Bobby?”

“Of course, Mistress,” the house-elf beamed.

“Do you mind taking us back to where you found us? It’s a lot quicker when you do it.”

In response, Mimsy took Hermione’s and Dean’s wrists and transported them back to Bobby’s, where they would hopefully get answers.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

They landed in Bobby’s living room and the sight that met their eyes was Sam pacing back and forth and Bobby sat on the armchair, his leg bouncing nervously and his arms crossed.

“I told you they’d be worried,” Hermione said to Dean, and both Sam and Bobby’s eyes snapped to them.

“Thank God, you’re alright, where the hell have you been?” Sam demanded, scowling at them.

“Sorry, Dad, I didn’t realise I would need permission to shower,” Hermione replied and Dean chuckled at her sass. “I left both my wand and bag here.”

“You did?” Sam questioned, and his eyes caught sight of them on the coffee table. “Oh, you did,” he cleared his throat and shuffled on his feet.

“Where were you? You can’t have gone far and you certainly didn’t use the shower here.”

“I called for Mimsy and she took us to my apartment so we could shower, it’s too far to apparate and my magic’s unsettled and I didn’t want to risk floo travel or port keying,” she shrugged. “Anyway, the house-elves are preparing your breakfast and it should be here soon.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she answered. Bobby looked as though he didn’t believe her. “I promise, I feel fine. As I said, my magic’s unsettled which will make me jittery for a little while, but other than that I’m fine.”

“And you?” Bobby asked Dean.

“Fine,” he shrugged. Two pairs of eyes narrowed on the pair and they caught sight of them holding hands, and they didn’t appear to be letting go of the other any time soon.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sam asked, changing the subject and sitting down on the still transfigured bed.

“We don’t know, but we talked and we had the same symptoms,” Dean answered.

“Why aren’t you worried by this?”

“There’s no point in worrying, it’s not going to help us figure anything out. When we come to know the answers, we’ll deal with it then,” he replied.

“Cas is working on it.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione frowned.

“Harry found you when you didn’t turn up for work, he called for Cas and he brought you here to Dean. The moment you were placed side by side, you calmed down. He thinks that whatever is happening between the two of you is supernatural, but neither of you is to blame. He thinks he’s seen something similar before, he’s gone back up to Heaven to scour the archives for answers, he’ll return when he knows something.”

“When was this?”

“Four days ago, you’ve been out for four days.”

“Oh, Merlin, Harry must be so worried, and the others, I’ll have to contact them and...”

“Calm down, Harry knows,” Sam interjected. “He tracked you here and he was present when Cas explained everything to us. He’s been back once a day to check on you. As far as I’m aware, he’s been covering for you at work and no one knows that you’re back here. They all think you’re ill. He’ll be back later in the day to check on you. Your owl’s here, too, he’s got a thing for ice-cream, by the way.”

“You gave him ice-cream!” Hermione screeched and they all winced.

“I may have done,” he said sheepishly.

“You know he’s on a diet.”

“Hermione, he gave me the eyes! The eyes! I couldn’t not give him some.”

“You’re such a pushover, allowing a bloody owl to manipulate you,” she scowled at him and Dean laughed. He had missed this.

“I can’t help it.”

“Yes, you can, stop allowing my owl to manipulate you. Ricky,” Hermione called and the small owl flew in through the open window and landed on her shoulder, rubbing himself against her cheek affectionately.

“I don’t think so, Ricky, don’t be sucking up to me, you know I’m not happy with you for manipulating Sam into giving you ice-cream. You’re on a diet for a reason.” The owl nipped at her ear and she hissed. “Ricky, you have just lost your iced mice privileges,” she told the owl. He gave a hoot of indignation before flying off. “Don’t even think about stealing some poor old lady’s pie from the windowsill either!” She called after him and Dean was thoroughly amused by the situation.

“What?” Hermione asked the room, seeing the identical looks they were giving her.

“You’re strange,” Dean commented.

“Just figuring that out, are you, Dean? You can’t be as observant as I thought you were,” she quipped. 

He pinched her side for her cheek and she laughed at him.

“Fucker!” Bobby cursed and jumped in his seat, as did Sam when Mimsy appeared in the room. Dean was used to it by this point.

“Mistress, Sirs,” she bowed and Hermione smiled at her and Dean nodded. “Butter has finished preparing breakfast, would you bes likings it now?”

“Please, Mimsy, and please tell Butter that I appreciate him making breakfast.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she popped out of view.

“So, that’s a house-elf,” Bobby muttered, Hermione nodded. “Funny looking.”

“Well to her you’re funny looking,” Hermione responded.

She pulled Dean into the kitchen and the others followed her, and as they took their seats, the food appeared on the table. The brothers appeared unsurprised, Bobby, however, blinked several times and she chuckled at him.

“I know, they spoil me so,” she said softly.

~000~000~000~

“Has anyone thought to call for Castiel?” Hermione asked, after they finished their breakfast and settled back in the living room.

Hermione transfigured the bed back into the couch and she and Dean took their seats, with her pulled into his side and his arm over her shoulders.

“He said he would return when he had something,” Sam responded and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“He’s a lot like me when it comes to research.”

“Meaning?” Dean asked.

“He may have already found the answer he’s looking for, but he wishes to have more information to make a comparison to, even though anything he finds is likely to be the same. I’ve been known to spend days researching a topic, even after I’ve already found what I was looking for within the first few hours.”

“Book worm,” he muttered and she elbowed him in the side.

“It comes with the territory, get used to it,” she told him and Sam sniggered. “Castiel,” Hermione called softly, her eyes narrowed on the ceiling, daring him to ignore her calls.

“I don’t think he’s coming, Hermione,” Sam said.

“Oh, he better get his arse down here, otherwise I’m going to pluck every single feather from his bloody wings, one by one,” she scowled.

“You’re vindictive,” Dean said amused.

“Get used to it!”

“I’m not complaining,” he held his hands up in surrender.

“Castiel, I swear to Merlin and the Founders, if you’re not down here by the time I’ve finished this sentence, I’m going to turn your feathery arse into a new pair of slippers and...”

“Hermione, Dean, I’m happy to see you’ve woken,” Castiel spoke as he entered through the door.

“You’re scared of her, too, I see,” Dean commented.

“Too?” Both Sam and Bobby questioned with a smirk.

Dean shrugged. “There’s no point in denying it, she’s terrifying when she wants to be. I’ve seen some scary shit over the years, but none of it comes close to her.”

Hermione scowled at him and elbowed him in the ribs a lot harder than the last time.

He grunted through a laugh. “I’m just messing with you,” he placated, placing a kiss to her forehead before she turned her attention to Castiel, who was stood waiting patiently for them to finish their little domestic.

“Have you found anything?” She asked him, conjuring up a chair for him and he sat down in it.

“I may have, but I need more information on your relationship before I am able to determine if it is pertinent to you.”

“Such as?”

“Are you happy for Bobby and Sam to remain present?”

“Why?” Hermione frowned.

“Some of the things I need to know are personal,” he responded.

She looked at Dean and he shrugged.

“They can stay,” she confirmed.

Castile nodded. “Your relationship, describe it. What are you to each other? How do you feel when around each other, and how do you feel when you are away from each other?”

They both frowned in thought.

“You first, Sweetheart,” Dean said.

She bit her lip. “I know that our relationship isn’t normal and I’ve known that since the beginning. I don’t know why, but I’m drawn to Dean and I have been from the moment we met. The more time we spent around each other, the stronger the pull seemed to be. Things between us started to change after we met with the mother of one of the victims and the little brother, and of course, when we passed out drunk and I woke up with a hangover and Dean suffocating me.” Sam sniggered, remembering the photo he had on his phone of that particular moment. “My guard lowered around him and because of this, I forgot to ward the windows and the Bowman incident happened.”

“Bowman incident? What happened?” Bobby frowned, not liking that things were obviously being kept from him.

“Nothing,” the two Hunters and witch replied in unison and he narrowed his eyes at them, but he quickly understood that whatever it was, Hermione didn’t want anyone to know and the brothers were protecting her secret. He could respect them for that, even if it was annoying.

“And after the Bowman incident, Dean was the only one that I trusted to keep me safe. He was the only one that could comfort me. We found the location of the Death Eaters headquarters and we got into an argument, and we kissed. Then the battle happened, I was injured and in a coma for three days and Dean didn’t take care of himself,” she glared at him and he rolled his eyes in response.

“From there, our relationship grew. Dean asked me to travel with them, to teach them about the magical world and in return, they’d teach me about the supernatural. Everything really changed during our first case together, in which it became... _Physical_ ,” she glared at Sam’s snort and he coughed to cover it up. “We both knew our relationship was strange.”

“How?” Castiel asked.

“Your turn,” Hermione told Dean.

“You want the list?” Castiel nodded, and Dean rolled his eyes but sighed. “We’re possessive of each other, to the point where I can’t control my thoughts of killing anyone that touches her. She killed a lamia for kissing me, and she made me shower and brush my teeth afterwards. I’m not a possessive person, never have been, and I’ve never stayed with a woman longer than a night. I’ve always had a wandering eye.”

“And now you don’t?” Castiel guessed.

“No, I don’t. I look at another woman and I can see they’re pretty, but I don’t have an interest in them, they don’t compare to Hermione. You could put Miss Universe in front of me and I wouldn’t care. The thought of Hermione being with anyone but me, is...I don’t like it. I think I might even kill him if it were the case.”

“Any you?” he asked Hermione.

“The same, the thought of Dean with anyone but me is sickening, physically sickening, and it hurts,” she frowned, bringing her hand up to her heart to rub over it, but Dean caught her hand and held it in his. “I’ve thought of leaving on a few instances, but I can’t bring myself to do it, I can’t bring myself to leave Dean. I feel as though it might actually kill me.”

“And you?”

“The same,” Dean confessed. “I’ve thought of asking her to leave, people around us die and I don’t want her getting hurt, but I don’t want her to leave either. I don’t think I’d be the same if she did,” he frowned.

“Anything else?”

“As I said, he’s the only one I trust to comfort me, but before we started sleeping together, we found ourselves waking up next to other every morning, in the car, in a bed, on the couch. I actually sleep when he’s nearby. Before I met Dean, I was only able to sleep a maximum of three hours a night, I was on two Sleeping Potions a week, or I drank until I passed out to help with the nightmares. Harry was the only one that was able to comfort me after I woke from my nightmares, but now Dean can, too. Since meeting Dean, I’m able to sleep through the night without waking. I still have nightmares, but they aren’t as vivid, but it’s only when he’s nearby.”

“The same for me,” Dean said. “I can sleep when she’s close to me, I still have nightmares, but they’re bearable and I sleep through the night.” Castiel nodded. “I worry about her. Not like I worry about Sam, it’s worse. The thought of her hurt...” He trailed off, not knowing how to explain it. Not even sure _if_ he wanted to explain it; he didn’t like to think of her hurt, he didn’t like talking about it. “I need her to be safe and healthy. It’s why I didn’t sleep or eat until she woke from her coma. I know you said she was fine, but I just couldn’t take care of myself until I knew for certain that she was alright.” Hermione squeezed his hand.

“I need him to be safe and healthy, too. I killed a seventeen-year-old girl because she held a knife to Dean’s throat.” Bobby’s eyes widened in surprise, and Castiel looked to be in thought. “I couldn’t control my actions. It was as if I had checked out and something else took over completely, and I was just watching everything unfold from the sidelines. When the fog cleared from my mind, I realised what I’d done. I don’t feel guilty that I killed her, I feel guilty that I know I would do it again, should I need to, should Dean’s life be threatened. I need him alive and safe.” Dean pressed a kiss to her forehead, squeezing her hand.

“If I say something to her that upsets her, it makes me feel sick to my stomach to know that I was the one that hurt her,” Dean said.

“Okay, how do you feel around each other?” Castiel asked.

“Calm, peaceful, happy,” Hermione answered and Dean nodded in agreement.

“And when you’re away from each other?”

“Well, my going back to England was the first time we’ve been apart since meeting. I missed him to the point where it physically hurt. I felt...Empty, lonely, cold,” she frowned. “And then the symptoms started, I can’t remember much after the first week there, I just remember waking up here with Dean, and I felt better, as though nothing had happened.”

“Dean?”

“The same,” he sighed, “Exactly the same. Without her, I was exhausted, agitated and irritable.”

“He really was,” Sam piped up. “I lost count of the number of times I wanted to punch him in the face. And I felt sorry for some of our cases, he was particularly vicious with a vampire, and it might have something to do with one of the victims being similar in height, weight and hair and eye colour to Hermione.”

“May have been,” he muttered.

“What are you to each other?” Castiel asked.

“You first,” Dean said.

“Dean is Dean, I suppose,” her brow furrowed and she nibbled at her lip. “He’s sarcastic, annoying, loud and arrogant. He’s a pain in the arse.”

“Don’t hold back,” Dean scoffed.

“But he’s _my_ pain in the arse,” she finished with a glare to him and his face softened. “He’s kind, caring, charming and he doesn’t yell at me or call me names when I go off topic and I start ranting about house-elf rights or anything else that I care about that others don’t. He doesn’t insult me for my love of books. He doesn’t care for my money. He doesn’t care that I’m a celebrity. I’ve been through a lot in my life and he doesn’t care that I have enough baggage to fill my beaded bag.” Dean snorted at her. “And he doesn’t care for my scars, mental, emotional and physical. I don’t have to hide who I am around him. I don’t have to suppress my magic from him. He’s my safety,” she finished softly, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Dean?” Castiel questioned.

He sighed. “She’s bossy, annoying, sarcastic and stubborn, with no sense of self-preservation.”She scowled at him. “But she’s kind, caring, smart and generous. She’s witty, funny and fearless and she doesn’t hesitate to call me out on my bullshit. She’s delicate and soft, but she’s fierce and deadly, both with and without magic. From a young age, she’s dedicated her life to helping and protecting those that can’t do it for themselves. I’ve seen the compassion she has for others; I’ve seen how she treats the house-elves under her care. I’ve seen her inspire teenagers to actually want to go to school and learn. She doesn’t care that I don’t have money, or that I get my money from hustling others at pool or through card fraud. She doesn’t complain that we’re always on the road, travelling for cases. She doesn’t care that we kill and lie through our teeth on a regular basis, or that we live off fast food and stay in disgusting motels.”

“I don’t have to lie to her. I don’t have to hide the weapons in the car. She’s so clearly superior to me, yet she treats me as her equal. She doesn’t treat me like an idiot when I don’t understand something she’s talking about. She’s my peace. When I’m with her, there are no problems, there’s no demons or vampires or werewolves, there’s no one trying to kill us. Everything is peaceful and quiet. I don’t have to worry. I don’t have to drink. I don’t have to sleep around. I’m no longer tired or numb. Her presence alone makes everything better,” by the time he’d finished, they were staring into each other’s eyes, as if they were having a silent conversation of their own.

Castiel had a small smile on his face, whilst Sam and Bobby sat there, their mouths open and eyes wide at Dean’s emotional admittance. Neither of them could believe what they’d just witnessed. They never thought they’d see the day Dean Winchester willingly spoke of his emotions and thoughts, and to an audience as well. It was clear to them that Hermione had changed Dean in more ways than they realised and it was for the better.

They only hoped that whatever their relationship turned out to be wouldn’t destroy the couple.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

“And now for the personal questions,” Castiel spoke, breaking them out of their trance.

“Those weren’t the personal questions?” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“No,”

“And what makes these future questions personal?”

“Sex,” he said bluntly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes on him. “And why do you want to know about our sex lives?”

“It may be important to what I have discovered.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I want your comparison between Dean and your ex-partners.”

“Why?”

“It may be important to what I have discovered,” he repeated.

She sighed and turned her eyes to Dean.

He shrugged. “You’ve already told me about the assholes you’ve dated, there’s nothing you’re going to tell him that I don’t already know.”

She turned her eyes to Sam and Bobby, who were looking at her with raised eyebrows, waiting for her to decide whether they were to leave or stay.

“Things with Dean are different,” she spoke, turning to Castiel.

“How so?”

“He brings out the feline traits in me.”

“And the others didn’t?”

“No, well, my eyes changed, but that was it.”

“Hang on? What feline traits?” Sam asked confused.

“During my second year at Hogwarts I made a potion to help sneak Harry and Ron into the Slytherin common room, so they could try to find information on the identity of the Heir of Slytherin. This potion allows you to become the perfect clone of a person for an hour when you add in one of their hairs. The hair I collected was from a girl’s school robes, and unfortunately, it wasn’t human as I believed it to be, but feline. It belonged to the cat of the witch. The potion is only meant for human transfigurations and so there were some complications. I turned into a strange human-cat hybrid and I was stuck in the hospital wing for a couple of weeks until the effects were reversed, but to this day, I still show some characteristics that you would associate with the feline species, though they only tend to show during sex.”

Bobby chuckled and Sam burst out laughing, his hand pressed to his stomach and his head thrown back.

“When you’re quite finished,” she scowled at him and he sobered immediately.

“Sorry,” he coughed.

“My point being, with my ex-partners the only trait that showed was my eyes changing to be more feline-like. But with Dean, I showcase traits that I didn’t even know I had.”

“Such as?” Castiel asked.

“Claws and purring.”

Sam started laughing again. “I knew I wasn’t hearing things, I knew I heard purring coming from your room.” Hermione and Dean both glared at him and once more, he sobered at their looks. “Sorry, you forget the walls in the motels are really thin and when you don’t cast Silencing Charms, I can hear everything.”

“You grow claws?” Castiel asked.

“Yes,” she sighed.

Dean stood and turned, lifting his shirt to show his back and their eyes widened and they choked when they saw the entirety of his back covered in scars that were obviously caused by sharp claws. They had all healed since he and Hermione had been apart and he was quickly reminded that they hadn’t had sex in nearly two weeks and the thought made him want to convince Hermione to whisk them away to her apartment, where he could ravish her until neither of them could move. God, he missed her! He wished she hadn’t fought his wandering hands in their shared shower.

“Fucking hell, Hermione,” Sam muttered.

Dean lowered his shirt and sat back down on the couch, placing his arm back around her shoulders with a smug smile on his face and she refused to blush, she fought it tooth and nail, if she was successful or not, she didn’t know but she hoped.

“And that’s never happened to anyone else?” Castiel asked.

“No, only Dean.”

“Is there anything else?”

Hermione cleared her throat and this time she knew she was blushing bright red, she could feel the heat in her cheeks.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this,” Sam chuckled and he ducked the cushion that was thrown his way, courtesy of Hermione.

“Be grateful it wasn’t a hex, I’m rather creative,” she told him and he gulped, whilst Dean smirked and Bobby looked amused by the situation.

“Stop stalling, Sweetheart, just tell him,” Dean said.

She sighed. “Dean’s the only man that’s...”

“That’s what?” Castiel frowned.

She buried her face in her hands. “Made me orgasm,” she admitted. The room was silent.

“How many men have you been with?” She could hear the frown in Sam’s voice.

“Nine, including Dean.”

“Maybe they didn’t know what they were doing,” he offered, and he scowled when he realised he had just unwittingly paid Dean a compliment and Dean smirked in response.

“No,” she shook her head and removed her face from her hands, showcasing the redness of her face. “I dated men that were known as ‘The Sinful Slytherin’ and ‘The Italian Stallion’ trust me when I say they knew exactly what they were doing,” she sighed. “Are we finished with all these embarrassing questions now? Please say yes,” she pleaded with her Guardian Angel.

He nodded. “Yes, we are.”

“Thank, Merlin,” she breathed out. “Do you know what it is?”

“I believe so, just give me a moment to double-check the records, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he replied, before disappearing from view.

“Well that was highly intrusive and I feel as though I should see a therapist,” Hermione commented and the three Hunters snorted at her. “I’ll settle for a drink.”

She reached for her beaded bag and pulled out a bottle of fire whiskey, and she summoned some glasses from the kitchen, pouring it into each of the glasses and offering them to the others.

“It’s ten in the morning,” Sam said.

She shrugged. “Somewhere in the world it’s ten in the evening, brace yourselves, it’s got a kick to it,” she warned, as she downed her portion of the fiery liquid and she winced at the burn and blew the smoke from her mouth.

She laughed when the three Hunters spluttered and coughed.

“What is that?” Dean asked, looking as though he couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not.

“Fire whiskey,” she shrugged.

“It feels as though I’ve swallowed fire,” Sam winced.

“It’s aptly named.”

“I like it,” Bobby shrugged, taking another tentative sip and wincing at the burn.

She sighed and her head fell back as she looked up at the ceiling with a scowl on her face.

“He’s not going to be a few minutes, is he?” Dean asked.

“No, more like a few hours,” she grumbled in reply. “Bloody Angel!”

~000~000~000~

They spent their day talking about Hermione’s time in London and the brother’s cases, whilst waiting for Castiel to return. By the time lunch had rolled around, Hermione used the limited resources in the kitchen to make lunch for the small group, and by dinner, Castiel still hadn’t returned and Hermione made dinner also.

Harry had made his daily visit and he almost crushed Hermione to death with a hug that could rival Mrs. Weasleys. She had explained everything they knew, and he told her of everything she had missed back in London, which admittedly wasn’t a lot. He told her of him covering for her with Kingsley and their family, and she thanked him and told him she would return to finish her duties as soon as she could. After that Harry left back to London.

It was just after eight in the evening when they were gathered in the living room.

“But seriously, they can’t be real!” Sam exclaimed, much to the amusement of Bobby and Dean, as Hermione looked at him as though she were about to endure an argument with a small child.

“They are.”

“They can’t be; it’s impossible.”

“I assure you, it’s not. They exist.”

“But...They’re unicorns, Hermione!”

“Unicorns that exist.”

He made a noise of frustration and threw his hands up in the air.

“They are real, I’ve come across several in my life; my first encounter was when I was still in school. It was a juvenile unicorn and I was allowed to touch it, they’d don’t care for men.”

“Charming,” Dean snorted, she shrugged in response.

“Alright, leprechauns?” Sam asked.

“Yes, they exist.”

“No, they don’t.”

“They do, they’re the mascot of Ireland’s National Quidditch Team.”

“Phoenix?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“No,”

“Yes, they’re fiercely independent creatures and it’s not often one is seen around humans. I’ve told you in the past, phoenix feathers are used as wand cores, so they obviously exist.”

He scowled at her. “The Loch Ness Monster.”

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous,” she rolled her eyes and Sam smiled smugly. “Everyone knows The Loch Ness Monster is just a cover for a crossbred giant eel and dolphin.” Sam spluttered and Dean laughed at her.

“Nicely done, Glinda,” Dean praised, amusement twinkling in his green eyes.

“The kraken?” Bobby asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No,” she said.

“Ha!” Sam said triumphantly.

“It’s actually a giant squid.”

“Oh, I give in,” he scowled, crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat with a childish huff.

“Face it, Sammy, she won,” Dean spoke.

“I’ve yet to see her lose an argument,” a voice spoke up and all eyes turned to him.

“Castiel, how lovely of you to grace us with your presence. Please tell me, have the measurements of time changed?” She said.

“I don’t understand your question,” he frowned.

Hermione smiled sweetly and Dean muffled his chuckles by turning his head and burying it in her hair.

“Well, a few minutes means three, maybe four minutes, five at a push. Not ten bloody hours!” She scowled.

“I wanted a second opinion,” he answered.

“And you couldn’t have sent a message saying that you were going to be longer than you said? We’ve been waiting for you for ten hours!”

He didn’t reply, just sat down in the chair that she had conjured that morning.

“Hermione, what do you know of your parentage?”

She frowned. “My mother and father were both muggles. My father was in the British Army for twelve years, before becoming a dentist, where he met my mother at the same dentists' practice.”

“And what do you know of your mother’s family?” He asked her.

Hermione’s frown deepened. “Not a lot to be honest. She never spoke about them. From what I can remember, she was born and raised in Italy, she moved to England when she was eighteen as her parents had died in a car crash. She met my father when she was twenty and they married a year later. They had difficulty conceiving children until they had me eight years later, and I barely survived, I was a premature baby. My mother had many miscarriages before I came along and there were some complications during her pregnancy with me. She never told me of her family or my grandparents, and my father’s parents died before I was born. It was just us three. Why?”

“I believe she was lying to you.”

“Excuse me?” She questioned in surprise.

“I believe she was lying to you about her identity, her life and her family.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She wasn’t fully human.”

The room was deadly silent until Hermione burst out laughing.

“You almost had me there,” she chuckled, wiping a tear from her eye. “My mother was the epitome of a human. She was as normal as anyone could possibly be.”

“No, she wasn’t.”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not lying,” he promised, softening his voice like he used to do when she was a child and upset, and she noticed the tone and her eyes began to water.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She whispered, and Dean’s hold on her tightened, as they all waited for Castiel to get to the point.

“Your mother’s name was Jean Hollindale?”

“Before she married my father, yes.”

“It’s true that Jean Hollindale’s parents died in a car crash when she was eighteen, and it’s true that she was born and raised in Rome, Italy.”

“But?”

“But Jean Hollindale was human. Your mother’s true name was Arariel and she was one of my sisters, a fellow Angel.”

Hermione began to hyperventilate, her eyes darting about the floor wildly as she struggled to get her breathing under control. She could feel Dean’s hand rubbing her back and hear the voices of everyone in the room, but she didn’t look up until she felt hands on her shoulders, and she was trapped in the bright blue eyes of her Guardian Angel.

She could see his lips moving and when she looked up, Sam and Bobby were covering their ears, and she turned to look at Dean, seeing that his face was scrunched up in pain before whatever noise they were hearing was gone and they sighed in relief.

“Waterfalls flow in the south of day,” she replied, her breathing heavy but back in control.

“What?” Dean asked in confusion, Sam and Bobby’s expressions matching his own.

“She just spoke Enochian,” Castiel told the group, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

“But that’s not possible,” Sam frowned, his eyes flittering between them.

“It is, for Hermione is the daughter of Arariel. Arariel grew tired of her responsibilities and she came down to Earth without permission. When here she discovered her vessel, Jean Hollindale, in Rome, but she also came into contact with Richard Granger when he visited the country during his short respite period from the army. She recognised him as the other half to her soul and she couldn’t leave him. Jean Hollindale’s life was headed down a dark path, and Arariel stepped in and convinced her to be her vessel. Arariel took over Jean’s life and she moved to England, where she waited for your father to return to her. Arariel was called back to Heaven before their wedding but she didn’t wish to return, and so, she gave up her grace for your father, and she remained on Earth as a human.”

Tears were falling down Hermione’s face.

“Arariel is your mother,” he said softly. “Hermione, you are part human, part Angel.”


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 5

Noises of surprise filled the room.

“No, I’m a witch, a Muggleborn witch.”

“You are,” he nodded. “But you are also part Angel. And this brings to light some concerns I had about you.”

“What do you mean?” She asked quietly.

“You have had far too many near-death experiences for a human. You have _died_ four times, and although you are a powerful witch, your magic isn’t able to pull you back from death, it’s impossible as you well know. The Angel within you kept you alive, long enough to bring you back before you crossed over. You should have died when Dean shot you, but you didn’t because you were kept alive long enough for me to heal you. You should have died after the battle a few weeks ago, but the Angel within you held on long enough for me to heal you. All the torture and dark magic you’ve been exposed to over the years should have killed you, but it didn’t. You should have lost your sanity during the time of your capture in the war, as the medics said, yet you didn’t because the Angel within you protected you against it. You are not a normal witch. The Angel within you makes you stronger. It makes you close to indestructible and it prolongs your life.”

“My life is already prolonged due to my magic,” she whispered.

“That is true, but your life will be prolonged further due to your part Angel. You can easily surpass every other witch and wizard in age.”

“What does this mean for me? What will happen?”

“You will continue to live your life as you are. Your Angel side will guide you and protect you the best it can. As I said, you will live longer, you are stronger and wiser, and as we’ve just discovered, you understand Enochian, due to your Angel. You do not have any of the capabilities I do, but you have your magic.”

“Were you assigned to be my Guardian Angel?”

“Yes, my father told me millennia ago that there would be a child born and I was to watch over and protect them. I knew nothing of you, only your name, and I waited until the day you were born. I watched over you and when you learned of your magical abilities, I showed myself to you, as it was the time to do so since you needed me. I knew nothing of your parentage, I believed your parents to be humans, too.”

“Who else knows about this?”

“Just two others, my father as he knew this would happen since I was assigned to you long before you were due to be born, and another in my brethren that I trust beyond anyone else. After searching through the archives, I discovered that a similar situation happened centuries ago, and she was the Guardian Angel to a human child who was also half Angel. You are what is known as a Nephilim. Nephilims are incredibly rare and they are born to one human parent and one Angel parent that is in their human vessel. Nephilims are not allowed to exist due to the power they possess and they are said to be stronger than Angels themselves. My father was forced to step in and destroy Nephilims to prevent them from destroying all worlds.”

She had a fearful look on her face.

“You are in no danger, Hermione,” he said softly. “I was assigned to protect you. You are Nephilim, but you are different to the others, if you weren’t, my father would not have asked that I watch over you and protect you throughout your life. He would have destroyed you and your mother for disobeying the ancient rules of Heaven. Believe me when I say, you are incredibly special, Hermione, and you were meant to change the world for the better, and you have done a remarkable job so far. It is thanks to you that creatures that are considered lesser than humans are now beginning to have rights and freedom and protection. It is thanks to you that so many people are given the chance to live their lives to the fullest, as you remove the darkness from the world.”

“You do not have the Angel capabilities we are known for, since you are not only part Angel, but part witch, too, and your mother was human long before you were conceived; she gave up her grace before her wedding to your father. There is a small amount of grace in you, but it’s barely detectable and it is why I didn’t know of your status. Your Angel magnifies your magical power, it makes things easier for you than it does others. You’re a natural in the art of Mind Magic since Angels have the ability of telepathy. You are in no danger from my father or siblings.”

She wiped away her fallen tears, before lifting her eyes from his, to look at Sam and Bobby who were staring at her with wide eyes, though they didn’t look fearful or disgusted, only surprised which she thought was a good sign.

She turned her head to look at Dean. His hold on her had slackened and he was staring at the floor with a frown on his face. As if sensing her eyes on him, he looked up from the floor and his gaze locked with hers.

His eyes showed confusion, understanding and surprise, yet they held a softness to them. He pushed a curl back from her face, and although they were both in turmoil at the news of her parentage, she knew Dean accepted her for who and what she was.

“What does my being part Angel have to do with our relationship?” She asked, turning her attention to Castiel.

The Angel rose from his crouch and back to his full height and he moved to once again sit on the chair.

“It’s simple. Just as your mother found her, for lack of a better term, soul mate in your father, you’ve found yours in Dean.” They both froze at his words. “Your reactions and behaviour towards each other are caused by your souls recognising what you are to each other. You are possessive as you both know that you belong to each other and no one else. You don’t wish to leave each other as you know your life is better when the other is present. You are what the other needs and wants, and no one will ever compare. You comfort each other, you protect each other and you are dependent on each other, whether you realise it or not.”

“And what if things between us end badly?”

“If you are asking if you are able to go your separate ways, the answer is yes. If one of you were to die, the other would be pained, but you would survive and hopefully move on. If you decide that although you were meant for each other, you don’t want to be together, you could leave, but no future relationship would last.”

“How is that possible? Our health deteriorated when we were apart for less than two weeks.”

“You didn’t let me specify, the answer is yes, you don’t have to be together if you don’t want to be, but for you, the circumstances are more complicated. You and Dean are now bound. Your souls are connected in a way that you can’t be apart from each other for long periods of time, I would say a week at most, at which you would truly start to feel the effects of the absence of the other. There are ways to manage the deteriorating health should you wish to leave the other, but it isn’t practical.”

“Why is it different for us?”

“On the night you first had sex, I was present.”

“WHAT!” Hermione screeched, her face turning bright red and Dean’s hold on her tightened and he glared at Castiel, considering murdering him.

“I was drawn to you both by the surge of magical power that you emitted during your coupling. I spent most of the night covering your apartment building in Enochian sigils and Demon wardings, to prevent anyone else from being drawn to you,” he admitted.

Castiel lifted his hand and waved it, and a golden glow surrounded Hermione’s and Dean’s left hands and they held them out to get a better view. When the glow died down, they could see the band of runes that was tattooed in gold ink on their ring fingers.

“In the eyes of God, you are married.”

Their eyes widened and Sam and Bobby made sounds of surprise. They had been remarkably quiet and Hermione appreciated it.

“You are husband and wife and have been since your first coupling. Now that you are truly bound to one another, it would make it difficult to leave. And before you ask, this has nothing to do you with your Angel side, more of your magical side. Your magic has bound your souls together.”

“Fated,” Hermione muttered quietly but Dean heard. “We’re married?”

“Yes, not in the eyes of the human law, but in the eyes of God, you are man and wife. You are Hermione and Dean Winchester.”

Before anyone could blink, Dean had stood up from the couch and stormed out of the house, and before they could comprehend what had happened, they heard the Impala speeding down the road until the sounds of the engine could no longer be heard.

Hermione’s tears fell down her face forcefully and the couch dipped beside her, arms wrapped around her and she was pulled into their body and she grabbed onto the comfort and she sobbed into the chest of her comforter.

“He’ll be back,” Sam’s voice was soft. “You and I both know he can’t stay away from you for long. He’s been irritable lately, but once he’s had some time to calm down and think everything through, he’ll come back, you’ll see.” 

~000~000~000~

It was two hours later when Hermione was still sat on the couch curled into Sam’s side, but her tears had long since stopped falling having worn herself out. Castiel had returned to Heaven, leaving her, Sam and Bobby alone and neither of them had moved since Dean left, they just sat in silence, waiting for him to come back.

The only thought that kept running through Hermione’s mind was that Dean hated her. He didn’t want her, and he didn’t care for her as she did him. It wasn’t her fault that she was part Angel, it wasn’t her fault that they were fated, nor that they were apparently married. She hadn’t known what would happen if they were to sleep together.

But all she knew was that Dean didn’t want anything to do with her and after two hours, she knew he wasn’t going to come back. And so, she made a decision. She would leave and protect herself from getting hurt any further than she already had. She would speak to Castiel and learn how to get a handle on her health now she was no longer going to be with Dean.

She loved him, but she had to be strong, and with that decision made, she stood up and grabbed her beaded bag and wand.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked, surprised since she had moved so quickly.

“It’s obvious he doesn’t want anything to do with me now that the circumstances of our relationship have been revealed, and I refuse to be left standing here, looking like an idiot. There’s no point in sticking around, so I’m going back to England.”

“Hermione, please...”

“No,” she shook her head, cutting off his words.

“He...” She took a deep breath. “He broke his promise to me. He promised he wouldn’t hurt me.” Tears began to fall down her face slowly. “He promised he wouldn’t be like the others, and I was an idiot because I fell for it. It’s my own fault for trusting him. So, I’m going back to England.”

“Permanently?” He asked, looking sad.

“I don’t know yet, we’ll see what happens once I get there. I honestly wouldn’t take back the experience of meeting either of you, nor would I of getting the chance to see what your lives consist of, and I appreciate your kindness, but I don’t want to outstay my welcome, so I’ll be off.”

Before either of them could even try to stop her, she spun on her heel and disappeared from view.

They both blinked at the empty space where she once stood. Sam pulled out his phone from his pocket and dialled Dean, his leg bouncing nervously as he did so.

“Come on, pick up, pick up,” he muttered, but it went straight to voice mail. He made a sound of annoyance and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m going to kill him when he gets back,” and much to Sam’s surprise, Bobby agreed with him.

“You and me both,” Bobby said darkly. “You and me both.”


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 4

Hermione landed in the alleyway of the bar she had tracked Dean to. Her plan had been to apparate to her apartment after making several apparition jumps, but she couldn’t allow herself to leave without seeing Dean one last time, without at least saying goodbye to him, and so she easily tracked him to the bar that was several miles away from Bobby’s.

She wiped away her tears, taking a deep breath and pulled out a cardigan from her beaded bag to fend off the chill. She pulled it around herself tightly and then entered through the doors, and much to her annoyance, it was a seedy-looking bar. They had them everywhere!

Her eyes landed on Dean almost immediately and she felt nausea overtake her when she saw the leggy blonde sat at the bar beside him, all but throwing herself at him and Dean didn’t appear to be objecting to her behaviour; he was smiling at her.

She held back the tears; she would not allow herself to cry in front of him, not when he was the cause of her tears. She took a deep breath and approached him, stopping when she was behind them.

“There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you, _husband_.”

~000~000~000~

Dean couldn’t explain why he had left in the way he had. He just knew he needed to get out of there, out of the confinement of the room and the stuffy air. He needed time to be alone. He needed time to process everything that had been revealed by Castiel.

As so, before he realised it, he had left the house, jumped in the Impala and drove until he came to the first bar he found. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer, blocking out the sounds of the music faintly playing, of the patrons laughing and playing pool, and the chatter that surrounded him.

In all honesty, Hermione being part Angel wasn’t that surprising to him, well, it was, but to him it made sense. She didn’t have the capabilities he knew Angels had, but he had been secretly referring to her as his Angel for a while now. She had changed him, she had saved his life in more ways than one. She gave him a reason to continue fighting the good fight, to continue living and to get up and out of bed in the morning.

She brought him laughter and light, compassion and life. Peace and quiet. Hope. She gave him hope that maybe he wouldn’t be alone forever. That when he was ready he could have a family. And although it was unlikely he would be able to give up being a Hunter, even if he did have children, he knew that with help and support he could be the father his never was. But he also knew that he only wanted that with Hermione.

Yes, the marriage thing had come as a shock, especially to find out they had been married for weeks without them even knowing. He also thought he’d die before he had a chance to marry, and to be honest, he never thought he’d find someone that kept his attention long enough.

He had been evaluating his feelings for Hermione for weeks, and he knew there was no denying it. He loved her. He loved her to the point where she consumed his every thought. To the point where he knew he would never be the same without her. She made him better, stronger, wiser, and more understanding. He craved to hear her laughter, her taunts and teasing, and especially the sounds he could pull from her when he was ravishing her.

Fuck! He ran his hands through his hair, fighting off those thoughts and catching sight of the clock, seeing that he’d been gone for nearly two hours and he already missed her. He wondered what she thought of his leaving. Would she be hurt? Upset? He shook his head. No, Hermione was a logical person; she would understand that he just needed time to process the revelations of the evening. She would be waiting for him to return, he just knew it.

So, to conclude, he was in love with his girlfriend who was actually his unwitting wife, who also happened to be a kick-ass and powerful witch, that was part Angel, and his soul’s perfect match. And without her, he would be nothing but the old Dean Winchester, the Dean Winchester before meeting Hermione, and he never wanted to return to who he once was. He hated that person. So blinded by prejudice, by what he’d been taught. So numb and tired. The man that slept with a different woman at every chance he got and the man that drank until he passed out.

He looked down at the beer in his hand and with a small smile, he realised it was the first one he had purchased upon arriving a couple of hours ago, and he had barely drunk from it.

Yes, she truly was an Angel. His Angel.

“Hey, there, handsome,” a voice cooed and he turned his head, seeing the blonde that had taken the seat next to him.

She was pretty Dean admitted, but she was nowhere near Hermione’s beauty. This woman had makeup caked on her face, a too-tight pink dress that showed off her figure in an unflattering way and heels he didn’t know how she managed to walk in without killing herself. Her straightened blonde hair fell down to her shoulders and her blue eyes were surrounded by dark lashes. This was the type of woman that would’ve easily attracted him before, but now he had Hermione.

Hermione that rarely wore makeup and even when she did, it was such a small amount that it was barely noticeable. Hermione’s hair that was always wild and tangled in ringlets, hair that he liked to run his hands through. And her chocolate brown eyes that he could easily drown in. She wore what made her comfortable, not what she thought others would want to see. She didn’t care what others thought of her. She was the epitome of natural beauty, even with her scars, which to him only made her more irresistible. And her petite frame and feminine curves fit against him perfectly and he could wrap himself around her to the point where she couldn’t breathe and she wouldn’t complain, just seek the warmth of his body like the little kitten she could be.

She was unpredictable and he liked that about her as it kept him on his toes. She could be a cute little kitten one moment and in the next a lioness that went straight for the kill. She didn’t simper or flutter her eyelashes, she was too good for that. She was strong and prideful, and when she stepped into the room, she gave off an aura of authority and power, and sometimes even he didn’t want to mess with her.

She saw so different from the women he usually went for, but she was perfect for him.

“You okay?”

Dean shook his head, shaking off his thoughts and he gave the woman a smile, one that he hoped meant he was trying to be polite and she should leave him alone.

“I’m Sarah.”

She didn’t get the message.

“Dean,” he replied, taking a swig of his beer and hoping she would leave him alone.

She didn’t.

“So, Dean, what brings you here tonight? Looking for some fun?” She asked, giving him a coy smile.

“Just needed some time to think,” he replied.

“Well, I can help take your mind off things, if you’d like,” she fluttered her eyelashes and leaned closer to him. He leaned back.

He was about to reply when he heard her voice.

“There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you, _husband_.”

Husband. His insides clenched at that word. It was possessive. It was final. It was a way of telling people that he was hers without having to go into any detail about the circumstances. He was her husband and she was his wife. He surprisingly found himself liking the titles.

He turned his head, a smile ready on his face but it dropped immediately when he saw that she had obviously been crying. Her eyes were puffy and red, she had tear stains on her cheeks and she appeared to be holding back tears as her eyes were watering and her lashes were wet.

“Hermione? Is everything alright?” He asked with a frown, reaching out for her.

She took a step back and appeared surprised by his words, but her attention went back to the blonde next to him, and she was glaring daggers at her.

“Husband? I don’t see a ring,” the blonde replied.

She stood up and with the heels, she was taller than Hermione, but that didn’t deter his Little Witch, if anything, her eyes narrowed further and she stood up taller, her hand twitching as though she were about to reach for her wand.

“We decided against rings, tattoos are more permanent, see?” Hermione replied, lifting her hand and the golden ink reflected in the lights of the room.

Dean found himself staring at the golden band of runes wrapped around her finger, he actually liked them.

“I can’t understand why he’d want to be with you,” the blonde said with a cruel smile, looking Hermione up and down.

“Yes, that thought runs through my mind every day,” she whispered. Her sad eyes locked onto his and panic set in at her next words.

“Goodbye, Dean,” she said quietly, before turning and walking away, he stood there in surprise, her words sounded final, as if she were never coming back.

“Good, she’s gone, now how about we...”

“No,” he cut her off instantly. “I’ve seen Hermione in sweatpants, covered in mud and covered in slime, and she was still beautiful. You don’t come close to her, and I suggest you get rid of that dress, it’s a hideous colour on you.”

He left her stood at the bar, gaping and spluttering as he went after Hermione.

“Hermione!” He yelled, she was on the other side of the parking lot and she turned to face him.

He started walking towards her, but suddenly there was a man stood behind her. A hand clamped over her mouth and she was pulled back into the body of her captor.

His eyes widened and panicked filled him, especially when he saw Hermione struggling against the hold of the arms around her, her screams muffled by the hand over her mouth.

“Hello, Dean, it’s been a while.”

“I swear, Crowley, if you hurt her, I’ll...”

“See you later,” he smirked, and in the blink of an eye, they were both gone.

The King of Hell had kidnapped his Angel.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 5

Dean ran to the space that had been vacated and if he hadn’t been panicked before, he certainly was when he caught sight of Hermione’s wand and bag on the ground. She was with the King of Hell and she was defenceless.

When he picked up her wand he felt it vibrating gently in his hand, but it didn’t seem to dislike him holding it. It was as if it was trying to tell him something.

Dean made his way back to the Impala and climbed in, placing the objects on the seat beside him whilst he pulled out his phone and switched the battery back on, seeing that he had five voice mails and seven missed calls, but he would deal with those later, right now he needed to find and rescue Hermione.

He dialled Sam and he answered on the first ring, as though he had been waiting for him to call him.

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!” Sam yelled down the speaker, surprising Dean. “YOU IDIOT, HERMIONE’S LEAVING BACK TO ENGLAND BECAUSE SHE BELIEVES YOU DON’T WANT HER.”

Panic turned into fear and he quickly cut off Sam before he could finish his angry tirade.

“Crowley kidnapped Hermione,” he said, his voice cracking slightly due to his panic of her being taken and of learning that she wanted to leave him and go back to England.

“What?” Sam whispered and Bobby was heard in the background growling curses before fast footfalls were heard along with the rustling of pages. “Why? Where? When?”

“Just now, she found me at a bar, I followed her and before I could get to her, Crowley appeared out of nowhere and took her. She’s defenceless; I’ve got her wand and bag.”

“Fuck!” Two curses were heard.

“Do you know why?”

“Stop asking stupid fucking questions,” Dean snapped. “We need to find her.”

“If we know why he took her, we might be able to pinpoint a possible location,” Sam said calmly.

Dean took a deep breath, his hand gripping the steering wheel in frustration, but his eyes fell to the wand beside him, and he didn’t know why, but he wanted to touch it.

He picked it up with his free hand and it began vibrating, he could feel Hermione’s magic washing over his skin, as though she were in his presence and he frowned. After everything he had learned of magic both from Hermione and observing her using it, he knew it was capable of some frightening things, but also some wondrous things, too.

As every memory of her using magic flashed through his mind, he kept his eyes on the wand in his hand, drowning out the noise of Sam and Bobby talking over the speaker. And as his eyes remained on the wand, the vibrating became more violent until every nerve in his body tingled.

“Did Crowley say anything that would...”

“What was the spell Hermione used to track the Death Eaters?” Dean cut off Sam, blinking out of his daze.

“What?”

“The spell? What was the spell?”

“I don’t see how that matters? You’re not a wizard.”

“Do you remember the spell or not!” He snapped.

“Yes, _Point Me_ ,” he said.

Dean stared at the wand in his hand; he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and prayed that it would work.

“ _Point Me_ ,” he whispered.

At first, nothing happened, but then he felt the wand being ripped from his hold and when he opened his eyes, it was spinning in the air so fast it was making him dizzy, and then it stopped, pointing south.

“Dean, we need to regroup...”

“No, I’m going to get my wife back,” he said, not realising he ‘d said those words aloud.

He snapped the phone shut, throwing it onto the seat and he pulled out of the parking lot, following the directions of the wand at a speed well above the speed limit.

“I’m coming, Sweetheart,” he whispered, his eyes flickering between the road and the wand.

~000~000~000~

Hermione gave a pained groan as every part of her body ached; she felt as though she’d been rammed into by the Hogwarts Express. She slowly opened her eyes, glad to see that the light in the dark room was minimal so it didn’t hurt her eyes. She blinked away the blurriness and lifted her head from the odd angle it had been laid at, making her neck ache, too.

She took note of her surroundings. A large empty room. Concrete flooring. Beige walls. The smell of dust and rusted metal. The sound of several water drops. Partially boarded-up windows. She was in an abandoned warehouse. 

“Bollocks,” she groaned, realising that not only was she in an abandoned warehouse she didn’t remember coming to, she was also tied to a rather uncomfortable chair.

“Nice of you to join me, it’s considered rude to sleep in the presence of your host.”

Hermione’s eyes searched the room as a figure approached her, stopping in the patch of moonlight that shone through the gap in a boarded-up window.

It was a man who looked to be middle-aged; he wore a black tailored suit and a long coat, similar to Castiel’s only it was black. His dark brown hair was cut short, as was his facial hair and he had dark eyes. She supposed he was handsome, but he didn’t compare to Dean, though in her eyes, no one ever would. Sadness crept in at the thought of him, but she pushed it away for the time being.

“You talk about manners, yet you kidnapped me -and judging by the headache I have- whacked me over the head with something and tied me up to this rather uncomfortable chair. What the bloody hell do you want with me? And I suggest you talk fast, otherwise, you’ll find yourself missing several limbs, as I bash you to death with them.”

He smirked at her.

“My, my, so violent,” he said amused.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, you bastard.”

His smirk only seemed to widen.

“Ahh, I can see what he sees in you, such a dirty mouth.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What the hell do you want with me?” She demanded.

He slipped his hands into his pockets and began to circle her.

“I’m not quite sure what to do with you,” he admitted. “I’ve been keeping my eyes on the Winchesters you see, it’s bad for a businessman to be unaware of his opponents. And much to my surprise, my little birds have reported seeing a woman with Dean Winchester, a woman that’s been seen travelling with the brothers for well over a month. So I’m curious, why would Dean Winchester, a known womanizer who’s never been with the same woman longer than one night, be travelling with a woman, a seeming stranger, for well over a month?”

“Why don’t you ask him? I can’t read bloody minds.”

“Dean’s not here, I’m asking you.”

“It’s like you said, he likes my mouth,” she glared at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Now that, I believe, however, I don’t believe that’s the only reason. I’ve been watching Dean Winchester for quite a while, longer than he knows in fact, and I’ve come to the conclusion that even he wouldn’t keep a woman around for the simple fact she can give a good blow job.”

Hermione grimaced. “And you say I have no manners.”

“He seems to have taken a shine to you, or so my sources say, he’s rather protective of you and you’ve barely been seen apart since the beginning of your travels. I want to know, why? What makes you so special? Why have you captured his attention?”

“And why can’t you have just asked him yourself, rather than kidnapping me and ruining my already awful evening with that ugly mug of yours?”

He chuckled.

If looks could kill, he’d be dead and buried.

“He wouldn’t answer my questions.”

“And I can’t answer your questions.”

He narrowed his eyes, stopping in front of her and looking down at her.

“You’re lying; I know there’s something different about you. You’re not quite human, but you are. You’re not quite supernatural, but you are. What are you? A hybrid of some sort? What are your capabilities?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I assure you, I’m as human as anyone can possibly be. I have a steady job. I have friends and family. I have a pet. I sleep, I eat and I require social and human interaction. I am human.”

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll make your death painless.”

“You seem to be under the impression that I scare easily.”

“You seem to be under the impression that I won’t kill you.”

“I don’t fear death.”

“Everyone fears death.”

“I don’t fear death,” she told him, sincerity filled her tone. “You’ll have to find another way as killing me won’t get you what you want.”

“I can make this very painful for you.”

“I’m sure you can, but it won’t be the first time I’ve been exposed to torture.”

He eyed her as a knife suddenly appeared in his hand. Hermione flinched at the sight of it, memories of Bellatrix flashing through her mind before she pushed them down and locked them back in the box she kept hidden at the back of her mind and she stared at him fearlessly.

As he slowly approached her, she closed her eyes and slowed her breathing down, clearing her mind of all thoughts and she summoned her magic within her. In the back of her mind, she could hear a whisper and she listened to it intensively.

Suddenly a door was thrown open and it slammed against the wall. A gunshot was heard and it startled her, she released her magic as an intense wave of power was thrown from her, thickening the air in the room and making it difficult to breathe.

She slowly opened her eyes, exhausted at the magnitude of the magic that she had just released. Her eyesight was blurry and she could just make out the figure of someone running towards her, but before they could reach her, everything went black.


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

As Hermione came to, she quickly became aware of the soft leather beneath her, of the sound of a familiar engine, of the car moving and of the scent of Dean Winchester.

She shifted, realising that although her shoes had been removed, she was still in her clothing, a pillow cushioned her head and a blanket covered her, keeping her warm.

She made a sound of pain and slowly brought her hand up to her aching head, she heard the shifting in the seat in front of her, and several minutes later, the car came to a stop and the engine was shut off.

As the pain began to cease, she carefully pushed herself until she was sitting up and her eyes locked on Dean’s.

“Careful, Sweetheart, you took a bang to the head,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, just a little sore. Thank you.”

“For what?” He frowned.

“For rescuing me,” she looked down at the ground. “I know it must’ve been an inconvenience to you and I ruined your plans but...”

“Hermione, you are not an inconvenience,” he told her firmly, sounding appalled that she even thought that of herself. “When you need me, not even death will stop me from being there for you.”

She looked down, feeling conflicted.

“Why did Sam tell me you were going back to England?” He asked her, in a tone that made it sound as though he was trying to remain calm.

She shrugged her shoulders pitifully and fiddled with her fingers. “You didn’t come back,” she said quietly. “Sam promised me you would, but you didn’t. I took that to mean you no longer wanted anything to do with me, and I didn’t want to outstay my welcome. Whether you wanted me or not, I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to you.”

She looked up, seeing that there was a panicked look on his face.

“You’re leaving,” he whispered.

She shrugged again. “You didn’t take the reveal well, and I assumed you hated me.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid!” He snapped, and her eyes flew up to his, seeing that aside from the panic, there was also anger there, too. “I don’t hate you and I never have.” She felt tears beginning to well up in her eyes. “If you want to leave, then don’t let me keep you here.”

“So you do want me to go?”

“Of course I don’t want you to leave, you’re my wife.”

Her eyes widened at his words and at that point, she began sobbing in the back seat, her head in her hands and her body hunched over.

She heard the car door opening and closing before she was enveloped in the arms of Dean, and she felt herself melt into him as she brought her hands away from her face and wrapped them around him tightly.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you,” he said softly, placing a kiss to her forehead. “But you’ve seriously misunderstood the situation. I left because I needed some fresh air and some time alone to process what we’d learned. I lost track of time and I was going to come back to Bobby’s and talk to you, but that blonde got in the way. I’m sorry if I made you feel as though I don’t want you.”

“I’m so sorry,” she cried into him. “But when you didn’t come back every possible negative thought ran through my mind and they all said that you hated me because I'd trapped you in a relationship that will effectively be bound for life, possibly death, too.”

He sighed. “I get it, emotions were running high, particularly for you since you found out that your mother wasn’t who you thought she was. I’m not surprised that you’re part Angel, well, I am a little, but to me, you’ve always been my Angel,” he confessed. “You’ve made me a better person. You’ve made my life better with your presence alone. You give me a reason to get up in the morning and to continue doing what I do. Despite the circumstances, we knew there was something different about us, and it just so happens that it’s something you mentioned before. We’re fated, there’s no point in denying that and there’s no point in denying that I want to be with you, no matter your lineage or magic.”

She sniffled and snuggled into him.

“Please don’t leave,” he whispered. “Be my unknowing wife again?”

A laugh-cry sounded from her and she nodded. “Only if you’ll be my unknowing husband again,” she replied.

“For as long as you want me,” he mumbled against her ear and her breath caught.

They pulled back to look each other in the eyes and he wiped away her tears, seeing that the tears in her eyes were drying up, too, and there was a happiness to them.

“There’s my girl,” he said gently. “It’s nice to see your eyes shining again.”

“You’re the only man that can change my mood in milliseconds.”

He chuckled at her before he sighed and his eyes turned soft, yet serious.

“I...I...” His jaw ticked and his eyes closed.

When he felt her hand on his jaw he opened his eyes, getting caught in her gaze.

“I know,” she said gently, making his eyes widen further. “I know, I can always tell what you’re feeling by your eyes. I love you, too,” she whispered.

“You do?” He spoke in a barely heard whisper, and Hermione could see the vulnerability he was showing her.

“I would give magic up for you,” she confessed.

She found herself being pulled into a bone-crushing hug and the oxygen from her lungs was squeezed out of her, making it difficult to breathe, but she didn’t complain. She wrapped her arms around him in return and she rested her forehead against his shoulder.

“I’d give up hunting if you asked me to,” he spoke into her ear.

“I’d never ask you to, it’s who you are and for me to ask that of you would be unforgivable.”

“And I’d never ask you to give up your magic, you’re a witch, it’s who you are and you’ve done a lot of good with your magic.”

“That’s good to hear, since I don’t think I can actually give up my magic since I was born with it. I might be able to suppress it, but I can’t physically get rid of it.”

“I don’t want you to suppress it. You don’t need to change who you are.”

“Neither do you.”

She snuggled into him further and she sighed when she felt peace wash over her, the events of the day remembered but dealt with.

She sighed when he began placing kisses against her cheek and she bit her lip and gripped his leather jacket tightly when he moved his lips lower and found the weak spot behind her ear.

She pulled back and their mouths met instantly, she fell backwards, pulling him down onto her and she sighed when she felt his weight on top of her. There was no hesitation, no patience and no gentleness, as their hands roamed at the other’s body; they had been away from each other for too long.

She tugged his leather jacket off his shoulders and down his arms and it fell to the floor of the car, in which his t-shirt quickly followed, as did hers. He was tugging at her jeans, trying to get the button undone when he pulled back from her and glared at it with a growl in the back of his throat.

She laughed breathlessly and his glare turned to her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before muttering, “ _Divesto_ ,” and all of their clothing was removed instantly, leaving them naked to the other’s gaze.

“Next time, lead with that,” he told her.

Her laughter was cut off when he latched his mouth back onto hers and covered her with his body, his hands wandering her body until he reached the apex of her thighs and she gasped as he ran his hand through her slick folds and plunged two fingers into her entrance.

Her back arched and she tore her mouth from his, her breathing quickening and sounds of pleasure growing louder and more frequent as she neared her climax, and he watched as she was putty in his hands. His eyes remained glued to her face, as her eyes were screwed shut tightly, her skin had flushed pink and her mouth was parted slightly as she struggled to breathe.

Her nails dug into his shoulders and he felt content in knowing that she was his, she wasn’t leaving him but staying. She loved him. He could feel her claws beginning to make an appearance as they pierced his skin. He had missed her.

He lowered his head and whispered into her ear, “Purr for me,” his tone husky and thick with lust and emotion.

She gasped and her eyes opened, the glowing feline orbs quickly locking gazes with the darkened green hovering above her. He twisted his fingers and her head flew back as the tightly coiled spring inside of her snapped and she let out a purr that made his ears ring, as if Angels were singing to him.

He shifted above her and slid into her, being enveloped by her warm silkiness, her walls still fluttering as he caught the tail end of her orgasm. Her hold on him tightened as they both voiced their feelings of being connected once again after so long a wait. She sagged into the leather of the seat beneath her, pulling Dean closer to her as she got her breathing back under control and relished in the feeling of being with him once again. He was breathing heavily, muttering against her neck as he placed teasing kisses to her flushed skin.

She shifted beneath him and he took the cue from her, pulling back and thrusting into her with a steady rhythm that hit every nerve inside of her and made her eyes cross from the pleasure. She could feel the coil inside of her tightening but it wasn’t quite enough to push her over the edge.

She quickly flipped them, sitting up and using her hands to balance herself as he gripped at her hips tightly and helped her to move over him. He kept his eyes on her, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed heavily. Watching as her hair spilt over her shoulders and stuck to her sweat-slicked skin. Watching as her feline eyes glowed in the dark and her skin flushed a brighter pink.

He pulled her down against him and wrapped her up in his arms, latching his mouth onto hers, catching the purrs that were beginning to make themselves known to him. He knew she was close at the sound and she was fluttering around him until the coil snapped. She pulled her mouth from his, purring loudly against his ear as she raked her hands down his chest and fell over the edge. His hold on her tightened and he groaned from the pain of the marks she left on him, and in relief when she pulled him over the edge with her.

As they both got their breathing back under control, Hermione whispered a spell to the clean them both up and they got themselves comfortable and covered themselves with the blanket.

Hermione laid on Dean’s chest with her ear pressed over his heart, listening as it beat a steady rhythm, as she traced his anti-possession tattoo with her light touch. Dean had a hand buried in her hair, massaging her scalp and the other arm was wrapped around her, keeping her to him and tracing the skin of her back.

“I missed you,” she sighed.

He chuckled. “I missed you, too,” he replied, placing a kiss to her forehead.

“The way you feel about me isn’t because of the bond,” she told him.

“What?”

“The way you feel about me isn’t a product of the bond. You are not forced to care for me, or even to like me.”

“I thought we were fated,” he frowned.

“We are, but that doesn’t mean it dictates our feelings for the other.”

“I’m not following.”

“We are essentially soul mates, each other’s perfect match. For this to occur, it means we have more similarities than we do differences, as we are essentially one person sharing a soul. If you have two people that are fated and they share your worst traits, can you imagine how that relationship would go? Particularly if you’re cruel or violent, or a psychopath?”

“I can,” he nodded.

“Two people could be soul mates, but they may not love each other, in fact, they may even hate each other but because they are bound together, they're forced to share a life and they can’t be away from each other for long periods of time, as we now know. They can be civil with each other, they may even be best friends or they may love each other. Just because they are each other’s perfect match, doesn’t mean they can’t hate each other. They will be drawn together like we were, but that doesn’t dictate your feelings. Any feelings we have for the other is not forced, we have free will in our decisions and emotions,” she explained.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t want you to resent me, I don’t want you to blame me for the fact that we’re fated and I don’t want you to accuse me of any misdeeds in the future.”

He lifted her head with a finger under her chin, making it so they could lock gazes.

“I don’t blame you for our circumstances, I could never resent you, no matter what you do and I’m the last person that'll ever accuse you of any misdeeds. You always do what’s best for those involved and there’s not an evil bone in your body.”

“I’m vindictive,” she reminded him.

He chuckled. “I’m aware,” he said amused. “You’re vindictive, but you’re not evil.”

She laid back down against him, letting the peaceful silence wash over them.

“I have to go back to England.” She felt him stiffen beneath her. “I’m not leaving you,” she promised and he relaxed after her words. “I still have responsibilities that I need to attend to, but since this whole fiasco came about, I’ve been unable to deal with them.”

“What do you need to do?” He asked her curiously.

“The trials should be over by now, I have testified in every trial I needed to. I still haven’t had chance to call the quarterly meeting for my department and that’s going to be a pain in the arse since my Aurors are spread about the globe and I have to give them a few days notice so they can make their way back to England. And I need to finish my part of training the new recruits and carry out the interview process for those that wish to join my department.”

“When do you plan to leave?”

“As soon as I can. Do you want to come with me?”

“What?” He said dumbly.

“Do you want to come to England with me? I’ll be gone for at least a week and I don’t fancy being away from you for that long, especially now that we know what happens when we’re separated.”

“I don’t have a passport and I hate flying.”

She laughed at him. “You don’t need one, we’ll take magical transportation.”

“Where will we stay?”

“My apartment in London.”

“Just how rich are you?” He asked, surprised.

“Well, Mr. Winchester, you have just found yourself tied to Europe’s most eligible bachelorette, well, I guess I’m not that anymore since I’m officially off the market.”

“I’ve done well for myself,” he muttered, pushing her hair back from her face.

“Not as well as I,” she replied softly.

He didn’t know what she saw in him. He knew he was handsome, he’d seen himself in the mirror and it wasn’t hard for him to pick women up when he wanted to, but aside from his looks, he was nothing.

He was so inferior to her kindness, to her compassion and loyalty. To her intelligence and wit. To her strength and fierceness. He was inferior to her in every way possible, yet she treated him like an equal. She treated him like he was a normal human being, whilst at the same time, like he was special to her. There was nothing she could say to convince him that she had the better end of the deal.

He knew he was incredibly lucky to have found her, and now they were tied together in marriage, there wasn't a chance in hell he was ever going to let anyone take her away from him.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 5

“So, you never answered me, do you want to come with me to England? If we stay a little longer than needed, I can show you some of Wizarding Britain.”

“You’ll show me the secrets of your world?”

“Of course I would.”

“Isn’t it against the law?”

“Not really, we’re married. Not by human law, but in the eyes of magic and Heaven, which means I no longer have to remain cautious about what I’ve been telling you.”

“You’ve been leaving things out?” He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

She shrugged. “Only the things that are sworn to secrecy to remain from muggles, and they’ve had no significance to the things you’ve asked or seen. But now I don’t have to hold anything back from you, seeing as we’re married. McGonagall’s been on my back lately; she wants me to guest lecture at Hogwarts since I haven’t been back in two years. I’m sure if I ask her she’ll give you permission to come with me, that way I can show you the ins and outs of how a school for witches and wizards works and you can see that we aren’t evil. Oh, and I can finally introduce you to ghosts that don’t want to kill you.”

He laughed at her. “Well, only if they don’t want to kill me, it’ll be nice having a break from having to defend myself from one thing or another.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It is,” he laughed at her smile, and then she frowned, biting her lip.

“What is it?” He pushed her hair behind her ear and out of her face.

“There’s no possible way I can keep you a secret.”

“A secret from who exactly?”

“Everyone, Dean, I wasn’t kidding when I said I have seven brothers, a sister and a sister-in-law for every brother, plus there’s Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Then there’s Draco and Luna, and the press and public...”

“So don’t keep me a secret,” he shrugged.

Her eyes snapped to him. “You want to meet them?” She said surprised.

“Not really,” he admitted, feeling uncomfortable just talking about it. “But they’re your family and sooner or later, they’re going to find out that I exist. Harry already knows about us, so he can be a buffer is anything were to go wrong, and I always have my weapons with me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll need those for Ronald, he gets very jealous when he sees that I have a new boyfriend and his levels of being a dickhead only rise. The others will likely be surprised that you’re a muggle and I’ve kept your existence a secret from them, but once they get over it, they’ll interrogate you as if it were the Spanish Inquisition.” He snorted at her. “I’m being serious, not even I will be able to save you from that fate.”

“If I should meet them, then I’ll deal with it.”

“Your funeral,” she muttered.

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They are. Bill’s a curse breaker and the job basically describes itself, Charlie’s a dragon tamer, again, self-explanatory. Percy works for The Ministry of Magic under Kingsley, George has his own growing chain of magical joke shops, so he’s the worst of the lot of them, and you should never under any circumstances, take anything from him, ever!” He snorted at her. “Ron’s an Auror and a dickhead,” she said and his snort turned into a chuckle. “And Ginny’s a professional Quidditch player. You already know what Harry and Draco do, and Luna, well, she’s a bit odd, but she has a heart of gold.”

“Odd?” He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Odd,” she nodded. “It’s the simplest way to describe her.”

“Odd it is. I’m sure I can handle it, I do deal with demons, gods and supernatural beings for a living.”

She started laughing at him. “Oh, you are so in for a shock, Winchester.” She shook her head at him and her chuckles died down, as she settled against him. “Do you want to tell people that we’re married?” She asked quietly.

“Only if it’s what you want,” he told her calmly, but he wanted nothing more than to display to the world that she was his.

“And if I do, am I legally changing my name?”

“Changing your name?” He questioned confused.

“Changing my name, I am technically your wife, would you like for me to change my name?”

“To Winchester?”

“Hmm,” she hummed, and when he was silent for a while, she looked up, seeing the thoughtful frown on his face. “I don’t have to change my name if you don’t want me to,” she told him.

His eyes snapped up to her, and she could practically see the thoughts running through his mind.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to take my name, it’s if you do you’ll become a target.”

“I’m already a target, people in my world know who I am,” she reminded him. “I have several fan clubs, of which I won’t be talking about out of fear of dying of embarrassment at some of the things they’ve done in the past,” she said with a grimace on her face and his mouth twitched in amusement. “It’ll prove to people that I’m no longer a bachelorette and maybe they’ll leave me alone now, they did Harry once he married. And you’re forgetting, I was kidnapped but a few hours ago.”

His face darkened at the reminder and his hold on her tightened.

“Who was that anyway? How did you find me?”

He took a deep breath to calm himself. “His name’s Crowley, he’s The King of Hell.”

Her eyes widened and then she bit her lip. “Oops,” she said sheepishly.

“Oops?” He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I may have said some things that I probably shouldn’t have, since I didn’t know who he was.”

“Such as?”

“I called him a bastard, said he had he an ugly mug, I insulted his manners and his inability to tie me to a comfy chair, since the one he gave me bloody hurt, and I may have threatened to sever his limbs and beat him to death with them.”

He stared at her in surprise, before he burst out laughing.

“That’s my girl,” he said proudly, his laughter breaking off into chuckles.

“He said he knew I was different, that I wasn’t quite human or supernatural. He’s been having us followed, and he’s been watching you and Sam for a while. When he was informed that I’d been travelling with you longer than a month, he wanted to know why it was me that had captured your attention.”

“And this is why I need to protect you from him. Crowley’s The King of Hell, he’s a dangerous demon, he’s powerful.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I can take care of myself then.”

“I’m well aware of that, I saw what you did to him.”

“Meaning?” She frowned. She’d passed out after the release of her magic and she couldn’t remember anything prior to waking up in the Impala.

“Well, I broke down the door to the warehouse and shot him with a salt round to get him away from you, but I missed when he was flown back away from you. You sent him straight through the wall. I don’t know what happened after that, the moment you passed out I got us straight out of there.”

“Do you think he knows about me?” She asked him.

“I don’t know what he knows about trueborn witches, he might just assume that I turned up with Cas and it was him that protected you.”

“Here’s hoping,” she sighed. “At least he won’t be able to find us in England.”

“Why not?”

“Demons don’t exist in the Wizarding World, the magic surrounding it is too strong for them to cross, any tracking methods or devices he may use will be useless if they’re technological, and magical methods won’t work either, as the magic of the trueborns will send the magic from hell haywire due to the strength of it. He‘ll never be able to track us to the apartment either, since Castiel warded it against Angels and demons. So, if you wanted to, we can use my apartment as a home base. Somewhere that’s safe, we can keep track of cases and store your weapons and supplies. We have somewhere to put down roots and when we have a respite from cases, we always have somewhere to go.”

He pushed her curls behind her ears for the umpteenth time that night.

“I can’t think of anything better,” he told her softly and she beamed at him.

“What’s mine is yours now, including my properties and assets.”

“That doesn’t settle well with me,” he frowned.

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, there’s nothing we can do about it. And don’t be surprised if the house-elves start calling you Master.”

“And why would they do that?” He asked surprised.

“As I said, what’s mine is yours, and that includes the house-elves under my care. They are not only bound to me, but they are bound to you now, too. If you call for the assistance of one of them, they will respond to you as if you were me. If anyone else were to do it, they wouldn’t hear it.”

“But why now and not before? We’ve been bound for over a month.”

She shrugged. “It might have something to do with Castiel since he put a damper around us to prevent others from coming to us after the bond was sealed. He essentially hid the bond from everyone, including ourselves, which is why neither I nor my magic picked up on the fact that we now share a soul.”

He frowned. “Is that why I was able to find you?”

“How did you find me?” She questioned curiously.

“Your wand, I don’t know how or why, but when I touched it, it was as if it was speaking to me, and I asked Sam what the spell was that you used to track down the Death Eaters. I was able to cast it and it led me straight to you.”

She bit her lip in thought. “You’re not a wizard, as we both know and you have no magical potential within you, nor do you have any magical lineage.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I may have gotten curious one day and compared your family tree to the magical families in the US,” she said sheepishly and he snorted. “My point being, you don’t even have a Squib in your lineage. The only reason you were able to use magic is that I was in danger. My wand would’ve sensed your need to find me and since we are bound by magic, the part of my soul that resides in you would’ve tapped into my magic, allowing you to cast the spell to find me. Essentially, you used my magic to find me.”

“So can I use magic like you?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’ll only work when I’m in trouble and without my wand, so don’t be getting any ideas,” she told him and he gave her a look of innocence. “But it may be beneficial if I teach you the theory behind Tracking Magic so if we find ourselves in this situation again, you’ll be able to find me.”

“I’m down with that,” he shrugged.

“It’s not easy, you know? Tracking Magic is a pain in the arse to teach to others, especially since once you learn it, you start personalising it to better suit your wants and needs. And it’s not an easy form of magic to learn either, I’m going to need your full attention when I teach you it.”

“You’ll have it,” he promised. “And I’ll do my best to remember it all.”

“That’s all I ask,” she sighed, snuggling down against him.


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

Hermione was almost on the verge of sleep when a thought occurred to her, and it was something she knew she had to voice.

“Dean?” She whispered in the silence of the car.

“Hmm?” He questioned, sounding as if he were almost asleep, too.

“Do you want children?”

He was awake instantly at that question.

“I didn’t, until I met you,” he admitted. “I know my hunting will be a difficult situation to raise children in and I never want them to have the childhood I had, but with your support and encouragement, we can give any children we have a safe environment and I can be the father mine never was. The thought of children crossed my mind, but I resigned myself to the fact I would never find anyone I wished to have them with, the same with marriage. But then you showed up, magic and spells blazing, and you changed my view of the world, and you’ve helped me to see what I’ve always wanted and needed in life. And now, someday I can’t imagine not having children with you, with little Dean and Hermione hybrids running around and taking over the world.”

Tears leaked from her eyes and slid down her cheeks, dropping onto his chest. He lifted her head with a hand under her chin and he frowned when he saw that she was crying, and barely looking at him.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” she said quietly.

“Then tell me,” he said softly, wiping away her tears.

She closed her eyes, blocking herself from his gaze, not wishing to see his reaction to what she was about to reveal. Something very few knew.

“You asked why I allowed my ex-partners to treat me the way they did, and I told you it was because I saw everyone around me getting married and having children, families, and I wanted that, too, but I could never have that. You asked why it wasn’t possible that I was pregnant, and I told you it was because magical contraception is one hundred percent effective, yet I lied to you.” She opened her eyes, her gaze locking with his. “It’s true that magical contraception is one hundred percent effective, but it wasn’t impossible for me to get pregnant because of it. It’s impossible because I can’t have children.”

“What?” He whispered.

“I’m infertile, Dean,” she whispered sadly, her tears falling down her face forcefully.

He held her tightly to him as she cried and he felt his heart breaking for her.

“How long have you known? Why can’t you have children?” He asked softly.

She sniffled, “I’ve known for years, since I was eighteen. Due to the dark magic I was exposed to during my childhood, as well as the torture I was put through during my capture, it affected my reproductive organs. I found out because I went to the hospital to have some tests run as I was a bit paranoid. I lost my virginity to Ronald, and I knew he’d been with someone else before me and she wasn’t exactly known for saying no, and I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t contracted anything from him, so I made him go to the hospital to get tests done as well. We got the results a few weeks later and they were negative, except they turned up some anomalies within me and I went back for further testing. Not long before my nineteenth birthday, I was told I couldn’t have children. I made the mistake of telling Ron, and it’s because of my infertility that he cheated on me. He’s always wanted a big family and I couldn’t give him that.”

He wiped her tears away, allowing one hand to gently cup her cheek and the other moved to her back, running his hand over her skin in a calming, caring gesture as he listened to every word she spoke.

“Over the years I visited the hospital every few months and I was given new treatments that would hopefully improve my chances of conceiving. After countless tests and treatments and receiving no changes in the results, I resigned myself to the fact I can never carry children. The only option for me would be adoption, but adoption is not a common thing in the Wizarding World, and a lot of wizards tend to avoid witches that are infertile as they need the witch to provide a child to carry on their line of magic.”

“It’s not your fault and I don’t think of you any differently,” he promised her. “If we can’t conceive children naturally, there are other methods.”

She shook her head. “No muggle method would work, not only were my fallopian tubes damaged, so was my womb.”

“If we can’t conceive children, and you want nothing more than to have them, then we’ll adopt. I want you to be the mother of my children, whether they share our genetics or not.”

She sobbed loudly and he held her to him, muttering words of comfort into her ear and running his hand through her hair as she clung to him.

“Actually, that’s not quite true,” a voice spoke up from the front seat.

Hermione screamed loudly and she and Dean did their best to cover each other with the blanket, as they sat up away from each other.

“What the fuck, Cas!” Dean snapped, wrapping the blanket around Hermione tighter and glaring at the Angel dangerously. “Don’t you have any sense of privacy!”

“No,” the Angel replied.

Dean’s glare hardened and his eyes flickered about the car.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked him, her face bright red as she clutched the blanket to her.

“I’m sure I still have an Angel blade around here somewhere,” he replied and Castiel’s eyes widened at the clear threat.

“Do you mind leaving whilst we change?” Hermione said.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen the two of you coupling before.”

Hermione’s already red face darkened in embarrassment.

“First of all, don’t ever say that again. Second of all, stop bloody spying on us when we so clearly don’t want visitors or spectators, and third of all, leave so we can get dressed, otherwise I’ll put my newfound magical strength to the test, and, I’ll let Dean loose with the Angel blade when he finds it.”

Castiel was gone instantly and Dean sent her a heated gaze.

“Did you just threaten to use your Guardian Angel as a guinea pig, then later allow me to kill him?”

“Yes,”

He grinned at her. “That’s my girl,” he said proudly and she rolled her eyes at him.

They both quickly dressed in their discarded clothing that had been thrown about in the car, and just as they finished and Hermione’s red face returned to normal, Castiel appeared in the front seat once more, and the moment he did, she leant forward and slapped upside the head, and none too gently either.

“That didn’t hurt,” he told her.

“No, but when I hex your face onto your arse I’m sure it will,” she glared at him.

Dean chuckled, taking her hand in his and hoping it would help her to calm down slightly. “Why did you interrupt us, Cas?” He asked.

The Angel blinked before shaking his head and answering the question. “You’re not infertile, Hermione.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am,”

“You’re not.”

“Yes, I am, I’ve seen the results of the tests and treatments they’ve run on me, and there’s more than I can count. They were all negative, I can’t have children. Magical healing is one of the best in existence, behind the healing of Angels, and even magic can’t make me fertile. The healers have been trying for the last eight years and still nothing has changed.”

“Nothing has changed but the presence of Dean in your life,” he corrected. “You are fertile, but only with Dean.”

“Excuse me?” She whispered, tears again beginning to gather in her eyes, and Dean looked between the two of them confused.

“You are unable to conceive or carry any child that is not fathered by Dean, as he is your fated and he has been since birth. Your magic and Angel have prevented you from being able to conceive a child with any man that isn’t Dean. Your reproductive organs are healthy, I should know, I’ve healed you many times in your life. You are only able to have children that are fathered by Dean, you are not infertile and you can have children.”

Tears were now leaking down her face. “I swear, Castiel, if you’re lying to me, I’ll find an Angel blade and kill you myself, Guardian Angel or not.”

“I am not lying to you,” he said softly, changing his tone to the one he used to use when she was a child. “You can have children but only with Dean, as you are fated. It is also why Dean is the only man that is able to please you.” Although she was crying, she blushed bright red at his words. “Your pleasure is to be his only and no other man is to have that right.”

“I can have a baby?” She whispered.

“You can have as many as you wish, but I must warn you, it may not be easy.”

“Why?”

“Although your reproductive organs are healthy, you do have fertility problems within your family. As you said, your mother struggled to conceive and carry to term and she had many miscarriages before you were born as a premature baby. And I mean Jean Hollindale, not Arariel. Your grandparents struggled to conceive, as did those before them. It may apply to you, it may not; we can’t be sure. The Angel within you might make it harder for you to conceive, or it may help in that regard. The fact they you’re fated may also help, only time will tell.”

“I can have a baby?” She asked once more.

“You can,” he promised her.

Before Dean could blink, Hermione had ripped her hand from his and the tip of her wand was pressed to her stomach as she muttered under her breath.

There was a soft glow that emitted from the tip of her wand, and although he had no idea what she was doing, she didn’t appear to be pleased by the news as the hopeful look on her face dropped immediately. And before he could ask what it was she’d just done, she disappeared with a ‘crack’.

Dean blinked before turning to Castiel. “What was that? Where’s she gone?” He asked the Angel.

“Hermione will tell you when she returns, she’s gone to the magical hospital to have some tests run. She believes what I have told her, but she wishes to see it confirmed in her test results. She will return soon,” with that, the Angel left too, leaving Dean in the car on his own, running a hand through his hair and completely confused with the situation.

~000~000~000~

Dean was startled awake when he heard the ‘crack’ from outside the car, and the door opened and Hermione slid onto the back seat beside him as he sat up straight and rubbed the back of his aching neck.

“Cas said you went to the magical hospital,” he said softly.

She nodded, her eyes focusing on a point in the distance.

“Is Cas right?”

She nodded, still remaining silent but tears fell down her cheeks and he pulled her into him and hugged her as she cried. When her cries died down he spoke.

“What spell did you cast on yourself?”

“Pregnancy Charm,” she answered. His heart began to beat erratically and he held his breath. “It was negative, I’m not pregnant.”

He was surprised to find that although he’d been scared of hearing the news, he was also a little disappointed in knowing that she wasn’t pregnant, which had been more than a shock to his system. Not even twenty-four hours ago he’d almost fainted at the idea of Hermione being pregnant when she brought up Harry’s suspicions, but now he was disappointed. But since discovering that he and Hermione were not only fate, but married, too, he found his hopes for the future changing. Although it had terrified himself, he really did want children with her.

“Why would you need to cast a Pregnancy Charm?” He asked.

“I haven’t been on contraception for the last two years,” she admitted.

He didn’t know if he should feel betrayed or not. He supposed he could understand why though, she was believed to be infertile and therefore contraception wasn’t needed, and as for him, she didn’t know that she was able to have children with him.

“The healers advised against it; they didn’t wish for it to interfere with any of the treatments they gave me or the tests they ran. And I never got pregnant, just as I’m not pregnant now, even if we’ve been shagging ourselves silly for the last month and a half. I’m not pregnant. When I had the symptoms of our separation, Harry thought I was pregnant and when I went to the hospital they ran all the tests except for a pregnancy test, knowing my medical history so it was never actually checked.”

“Does Harry know?”

She shook her head. “No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he suspected it. The only person I ever told was Ronald, and the healers are sworn by a magical contract to keep my medical records private. The only people that I’ve told are Ronald and you, that’s it. I’ve never told anyone else because I couldn’t bear the thought of the pity they’d bestow upon me. Now that I know I’m fertile, I’ll go back on the potion.”

“Don’t,” he said before he could even stop himself, but he realised that he’d meant it. She pulled back from him, a slight frown on her face as she looked at him. “Don’t go back on contraceptives.”

“But...”

“No,” he shook his head, pushing a curl behind her ear and locking his gaze with hers. “You can have children with me, but we may still have difficulty conceiving as Cas said. Considering how much we’ve been preoccupied with each other and you’re not pregnant, it may take a while before I put a baby in you. The life we lead is dangerous and something may happen to one of us before we get the chance to raise a child, time is something that we may or may not have on our side. So no contraception for either of us and if you get pregnant, then we’ll have a baby, if we don’t, we’ll wait until we do.”

“You’ve just found out you’re married to me, are you ready for the possibility and responsibility of having a baby?” She asked him.

Fear flashed through his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by content and determination. “With you by my side, I’m ready for anything life throws our way, and if that’s a baby, then I have no doubt I’d be shit scared.” She chuckled at him. “But I’ll have you to help me, as well as Sammy and Bobby.”

“You aren’t just doing this for me, are you? I want you to be happy, too.”

“With you in my life I can’t be anything but happy,” he said softly. “I know there’s nothing more you want than a baby and there’s nothing more than I want than to give that to you. You may have wanted a family longer than I have, but with you, I want that, too, and only with you. So no contraceptives and hopefully we’ll have little Dean-Hermione hybrids running about with sticky hands and snotty noses sometime in the future.”

She laughed at him and he wiped away the happy tears that were falling down her face before she launched herself into his arms and hugged him tightly.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she whispered into his ear.

“Me too,” he replied.

“I love you,” she told him.

His heart skipped a beat at the declaration, and although it was hard for him to say those words back, he loved her, too.

“Me too,” he mumbled.

He sighed. He was married to a kick-ass and powerful witch-Angel and they would hopefully be having children together in the future. He was feeling truly happy for the first time in as long as he could remember. And it all because of her; his Angel.


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

“I’m hungry,” Hermione complained as she sat in the passenger’s seat beside Dean. 

“We’ll get you some food when we come to the nearest diner or gas station.”

“You’ve been saying that for the last hour,” she pouted, crossing her arms.

“And I meant it, there should be one or the other not far up ahead. We’ll be at Bobby’s in about an hour, anyway.”

She fell silent, and he chuckled at her as they continued with their journey.

“There you go, a gas station,” he pointed it out up ahead and she sat up straight, and before the car came to a complete stop, she was out the door and all but running to get herself some food.

Dean chuckled and shook his head at her, whilst he busied himself with refuelling, and once everything was paid for, they left and continued with their journey to Bobby’s.

“When do you want to leave for England?” He asked her, before taking a bite of the sandwich she offered him, and let’s be honest, it wasn’t often she shared her food with someone so he took the chance while he could.

“As soon as possible, do Sam and Bobby know we’re on our way and I’m safe?”

“No.”

She sighed, before taking his phone from him and dialling Sam’s number, which he picked up instantly.

“Fuck’s sake, Dean, we’ve been trying to get a hold of you all night.”

“It’s Hermione, actually,” she said.

“Hermione!” He yelled down the speaker and she winced.

“Ouch,” she said.

“Sorry,” he breathed out. “Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt? Where did he take you? Do you know why? What happened?”

She snorted at him. “Sam, calm down,” she said slowly.

“Right, sorry, I’m calm,” he said after taking a deep breath.

“Great, now I can understand you. I’m fine, thank you for asking. I wasn’t hurt, just a bump on the head from where the arsehole knocked me out and a numb arse from the fact he tied me to the most uncomfortable chair he could’ve possibly found.” He laughed and she heard Bobby in the background grumbling about ‘priorities.’ “I don’t know where he took me; I just woke up in an abandoned warehouse. He took me because he’s been having you watched and he wanted to know why I was travelling with you and why Dean was so protective of me. And other than the fact I gave him a verbal beating, insulted his looks, manners and intelligence, as well as threatening him, nothing really happened.”

He laughed in disbelief down the speaker. “You have no fear; do you have any idea of who that was?”

“Well, not until _after_ I woke up in the Impala and Dean told me I had sassed and threatened The King of Hell, but I wouldn’t take it back. The arsehole had appalling manners. And if I had known who it was, I wouldn’t have held back as much I did. I thought I was actually quite nice to him.”

“Yeah, you’re fine,” he said amused.

“I used wandless and non-verbal magic against him when Dean turned up, and then I passed out and woke up in the Impala. We slept in the car, but we’re on our way back now, we’re about fifteen minutes out.”

“And everything with you and Dean?” He asked, sounding hopeful.

She looked at Dean and he turned his head towards her and he smiled that smile, the one he reserved for her.

“Perfect,” she answered honestly. “Absolutely perfect.”

~000~000~000~

“Ow!”

“Don’t you ever worry us like that again,” Bobby said gruffly, after smacking her upside the head.

She scowled at them. “It’s not my fault I was kidnapped by The King of Hell,” she grouched.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, pulling her into a hug and she rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry we can’t stay long, but we’ve got to get going as soon as possible,” she said after pulling back from him.

“Of course, there’s some cases that need...”

“Actually, Bobby, we can’t take them,” Dean said, walking over to Hermione after collecting his things, and he put his arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side.

“Why not?” He asked with a confused frown.

“I’m going to England with Hermione for the week. She has things she needs to do back at her office, which she never got the chance to finish. We don’t want to risk falling under the symptoms again, and she’s going to show me some of her world.”

“Just you and Hermione?” Sam frowned.

“Why? Aren’t you coming?” Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dean snorted at the child-like glee that overtook Sam’s face before he all but ran from the room to collect his things.

“Be careful,” Bobby warned.

“Don’t worry, demons can’t track us in the Wizarding World, the magic of the trueborns is too powerful and it’ll send the magic from hell haywire, and technological devices won’t work either. And even if they do track us, they can’t enter into the Wizarding World, which is why we don’t have demons.”

“Well, that’s handy,” he commented and she laughed at him.

“You should be worrying about the reaction my ex-boyfriend will have when he sees us together; I can guarantee with the bad luck I have, we’ll run into him, or even better, all of them.”

“I hope we do,” Dean muttered darkly and she rolled her eyes, whilst Bobby looked both confused and amused.

“I suppose we’ll see you when we next see you. We’ll let you know when we return, and see if you have any cases for us,” she said, stepping forward to hug him one last time. “Oh, and when Ricky makes a reappearance, send him home for me?”

“If he’ll leave, I will,” he shrugged.

“Don’t feed him sugar and he will.”

“Like I have a choice, the little demon stole my brownie out of my hand this morning.”

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance and Dean chuckled at her.

“That bird is a bloody menace; he’s going to be the death of me. That’s if the sugar doesn’t kill him first,” she sighed. “I give in, if he wants to be fat until he can no longer fly, then so be it. I quit,” she threw her hands up in the air and disappeared into the kitchen.

~000~000~000~

After Hermione had a quick word with Bobby, she hugged him and headed to the Impala, slipping into the passenger’s side beside Dean, just as Sam slipped into the back seat.

“I’ve been confined to the back, I see,” he commented amusedly. Not that he was complaining; it was more spacious and comfortable in the back seat after Hermione had worked her magic all those weeks ago.

“She’s prettier than you,” Dean shrugged.

Hermione snorted at him as they pulled out of Bobby’s and began the drive to her apartment in Cambridge, where they would floo to her London apartment.

Halfway into their journey, Hermione had fallen asleep with her back propped up against the door and her feet resting in Dean’s lap, not even caring that he was driving and he didn’t complain either. In fact, he asked Sam to pass forward the pillow they had used the night before, and he pulled over, just so he could slip it beneath Hermione’s back as she slept so it wouldn’t hurt leaning against the door, before he continued with their drive.

“Have you sorted everything out between the two of you?” Sam asked, finally voicing the question he had been dying to ask since getting in the car.

“Yes, we have.”

“And?”

“And we’ve sorted everything out.”

Sam huffed. “I know you don’t like to talk about your feelings, I just want to know if you’re going to hurt her.”

Dean turned to glare at him for even thinking he would hurt Hermione, but Sam didn’t appear to be affected by it, in fact, he had a protective look in his eyes.

Dean sighed and turned his eyes back to the road. “I’m not going to hurt her, I’m not going to abandon her and I’m not going to allow anything to hurt her. She’s my wife. I left because I needed some time to get my thoughts in order and I needed to process everything we’d learned. I lost track of time and before I could come back and talk to Hermione, a blonde chick set her sights on me and before I could get away, Hermione found me and Crowley kidnapped her. Once I’d gotten her back, and she didn’t need my help, by the way, we got everything out in the open after she regained consciousness. I don’t blame her for anything that happened; it’s not her fault just as it’s not mine. And even if I’d have had the choice, I’ve come to realise that I probably would’ve married her in the future anyway, but her magic has already taken care of that for us. We’re not married according to the law, but in the eyes of magic and Heaven we are and that’s enough for us. We’re both surprisingly content with the fact that we’re married.”

“Are you going to tell people you’re married?” He asked curiously.

“That’s up to Hermione, we’re more than likely going to meet her family back in England, and if she tells them we’re married, then she tells them, if not, then she doesn’t. It’s her choice.”

“Is she taking our name?”

“We spoke of it, but she has the final decision. If she does, then she’ll have a target on her back.”

“She already does,” Sam injected. “Not only from those in her world, but Crowley’s got his eyes on her now, so it doesn’t make much difference.”

“I want her safe, but with the life we have, we both know it’s not possible. I’m just thankful she has her magic and she can shoot as a backup.”

“She’s rather good at knife throwing, too, better than you even,” Sam commented.

Dean’s lip twitched and his head turned to look at her sleeping figure, seeing that she looked stress-free and peaceful and he smiled at the sight.

“You love her, don’t you?” Sam questioned.

“What?” Dean blinked in surprise at the question.

“You love her.” This time it was a statement, not a question.

Dean sighed; his eyes now back on the road. “Yes, I do,” he admitted and Sam smiled a small smile.

“Have you told her?”

“She knows, I haven’t said the words, but she knows.”

They fell silent for a short while before Dean spoke again.

“I want you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“If anything happens to me, I want you to take care of her.”

Sam didn’t bother correcting Dean; they both knew that no matter how good they were at hunting, death could come at any given moment.

“I promise I’ll take care of her, you’re not the only one that loves her; she’s like a sister to me.”

“She is your sister now,” he corrected and Sam snorted.

“I’m going to have a permanent headache now that the two of you are effectively never leaving the other.”

“Probably,” Dean agreed.

“Pull over at the next gas station; I need to stock up on aspirin.”

“No,” Dean said and Sam scowled.

As they neared Hermione’s apartment, Dean spoke up once more.

“We need to watch out for her.”

“She can take care of herself.”

“I know she can, but I don’t want her getting injured.”

“Why?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dean’s eyes fell to Hermione before turning back to the road once again.

“We’re trying for a baby.”

Sam chocked on a lung full of oxygen and Dean glared at him, as Hermione shifted in her sleep at the sound.

“A baby?” Sam gasped out, his face red and his eyes watering.

“Yes,” Dean confirmed.

“Fucking hell, Dean, you’ve barely been together two months and married less than that, and now you want to have a kid. Are you feeling alright? What’s gotten into you? The Dean I know never wanted kids.”

“The Dean you knew has gone, she’s changed my views of the world and I know I’m a better person for it. I never wanted kids or marriage, because I never thought I’d live long enough to have either and I never found anyone I wanted to have those things with, until I met Hermione. Cas came to us with a bit of news last night that shook Hermione up, but it was good news she wasn’t expecting. We don’t know how long a life we’ll have together and Hermione wants nothing more than to have a family.”

“Dean, you can’t just have a kid because it’s what Hermione wants, you have to think about it. You have to...”

“You don’t understand, Sammy,” Dean interrupted and he shook his head. “I’m not going to betray Hermione’s privacy as the things she’s told me were in confidence, but she’s had a rough go of it over the last few years. She wants a baby and I can give it to her.”

“That’s a big responsibility, Dean, you can’t just give it back when it’s crying at every hour of the night or when it needs its diaper changing or it needs feeding.”

“I’m not an idiot, Sammy.” Dean glared at him through the rearview mirror. “I know it’s a big responsibility. But let’s face it, I’m not getting any younger and I want a family with Hermione. The lifestyle we live is complicated and dangerous, but we can make it work. And once Hermione’s pregnant, I know I’m going to be terrified, but I also know that I’ll have Hermione and Bobby, and I’ll have you to help me. I want to be the father ours never was and I want to look after my wife and kids. Sooner or later, I’m putting a baby in her, and I might not be ready for the responsibility, but I’ll learn to be, because it’s what she wants, and I want it, too, whether you approve or not.”

Sam sighed. “Dean, you’re my brother and I want you to be happy, and I know I’ve never seen you happier than when you’re with Hermione. So, if you say you’re trying for a kid, then when the time comes, I’ll support you both.”

“Thanks,” Dean mumbled. “But we may have a bit of a wait before the first Winchester baby comes along,” he said, and although Sam was curious, he knew when to hold his tongue.

~000~000~000~

“Hey, Sweetheart, we’re here,” Dean said softly, rubbing Hermione’s leg to wake her from her slumber.

Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him sleepily. “We’re here?”

“Just pulled up,” he smiled back and she sat up and stretched her arms above her head, before lifting her legs from Dean’s lap and climbing out of the car, after retrieving her wand and beaded bag.

“What are we doing with Baby whilst we’re gone?” Dean asked, following her and Sam into the building and to the lift.

“We’ll leave her here; the house-elves will move her to the secure parking structure that’s attached to the building, so she won’t be out in the open. She’ll be locked away and well taken care of until we return, so you don’t have to worry about her being stolen or damaged,” she said amused.

“Mistress is home,” Mimsy appeared as they stepped out of the lift.

“Hello, Mimsy,” Hermione greeted with a smile. “We’re not staying long; we’ll be going to England and staying in the London apartment for about a week, possibly longer.”

“Yes, Mistress, I bes having Hopper prepare the rooms for guests.”

“I can do it myself, Mimsy,” Hermione reminded her.

“Nonsense,” the tiny being huffed. “When Mistress bes home, she not do anything as Mimsy will do it.”

Sam and Dean chuckled at Hermione as she sighed in defeat.

Mimsy turned her attention to Dean and her eyes began to water as she rocked on the balls of her feet.

“Err, Hermione, why’s she looking at me like that?” Dean leaned over and whispered into her ear.

“Wait for it,” Hermione said, and then Mimsy burst into tears before throwing herself at Dean, wrapping herself around his legs as she cried into him.

Dean looked horrified and she and Sam shared a laugh at his expense. Dean cleared his throat and awkwardly leaned down to pat Mimsy on the head in comfort, causing Hermione’s laughter to double.

“Everything okay, Mimsy?” Dean asked, a worried tone to his voice. Mimsy sobbed harder. “What did I say?” He whispered angrily to the laughing pair.

Hermione just waved him off, too consumed by her laughter to be able to speak, and she had tears rolling down her face.

“You bes Mimsy’s Master,” Mimsy said through her cries, as they slowly began to ebb. She pulled back from Dean and he sighed in relief when she appeared to have gained control of herself. “Mimsy can see the Master’s and Mistress’ bond. Mimsy know the Master take care of her Mistress, and he not hurt her. Mimsy know the Master bes a good man.”

Dean blinked in surprise and Hermione smiled when her laughter had died down and Dean crouched down in front of Mimsy.

“Thank you, Mimsy, it must be true if I have your approval; no one has taken better care of Hermione than you,” he said softly, and Hermione felt tears prickle at her eyes at his words.

“It is true, Master, you a good man, and Mimsy happy her Mistress bes happy,” with that, she popped out of the room, leaving the three humans alone.

Dean stood up and Hermione went over to him and wrapped herself around him in a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered, and he placed a kiss to her head.

“Does someone want to explain why Dean is suddenly being called Master?” Sam asked.

Hermione shrugged. “We’re married, everything that I own Dean now has access, too, that’s my properties, assets and house-elves. He can call for one of them should he need to and they will do anything he wishes, just as they would for me.”

“Wait a minute, properties? As in more than one?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered.

“Just how many properties do you own?” Sam asked surprised.

She bit her lip in thought. “Seven,” she answered, before walking out of the room and to her bedroom, leaving a surprised Dean and a spluttering Sam behind her.


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

“Dean, wake up,” Hermione said. He made a sound of annoyance in his sleep. “Dean, wake up,” she repeated.

“What time is it?” He grumbled tiredly, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Three in the morning.”

“Then let me sleep, crazy witch,” he muttered, rolling over in bed and putting his back to her.

She sighed. “I’m doing this for your benefit. England is five hours ahead of us, and even though we’re travelling by floo which will take no more than a few minutes, we’re crossing time zones. I’m trying to prevent you from having jet lag. Come on, up you get, Butter’s made you apple pie as a treat.”

“Apple pie?” He sprung up in bed, wide awake and she rolled her eyes at him.

“Yes, he’s made you apple pie, and he’s made you a few more to take to London with us, so hurry up, get showered and dressed, we leave in less than an hour. I want to avoid the morning traffic in the floo network. Sam’s already waiting for us.”

“There really is apple pie?” He questioned, looking at her wearily.

“Not if you don’t hurry up, Sam was eyeing it.”

Dean was out of bed and in the bathroom before she could blink.

~000~000~000~

“It’s not going to hurt?” Sam questioned, looking at the flames suspiciously.

She pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation; this was the fifth time he’d asked her and it was beginning to annoy her. Dean leaned against the wall, chuckling in amusement.

“For the last time, no, it’s not going to hurt. It may feel a little strange, but that’s it. You just need to close your eyes to prevent soot from getting in them and you need to bend your knees ready for when we land on the other side, otherwise, you could break your ankle.”

“Okay,” he nodded, his eyes still on the flames. “But you’re sure it’s not...”

“Sam, if you finish that sentence, I’ll turn you into a chair so that when someone sits down you’ll have their arse in your face.”

Dean started laughing; he couldn’t deny she was creative.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Just step into the flames.”

Sam took a deep breath before striding forward and he stepped into the flames, his mouth open and ready to scream.

He frowned. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Halle-fucking-lujah, he gets it,” she said, throwing her hands up in the air. He scowled at her and Dean chuckled before they both stepped into the flames and Hermione called out the address.

~000~000~000~

They stepped out of the fireplace and into her London apartment, and they took in the sight, seeing that it was decorated similarly to her other apartment only it wasn’t as big.

“I’m sorry to just dump you here, boys, but I have to get to the office really quickly.” She told them. “Feel free to have a look around, if there’s something you want to look at but you get tingles when you go near it, don’t touch it as it may kill you.”

They blinked at her, trying to determine if she was joking or not. She wasn’t.

“Please don’t leave the apartment until I get back, we’re in Wizarding London and it’s dangerous for non-magicals to wander around by themselves. I should be back around three, and afterwards, I’ll take you for your very first tour of Diagon Alley, which is basically a magical shopping mall only it’s completely awesome and you’ll love it. I promise. There may be a few house-elves that pop in and out, so don’t be surprised if you see them.”

She looked around, before grabbing her Ministry robes, slipping them on over her jeans and t-shirt, putting her beaded bag and wand in her pocket.

“Right, I’ll be back soon, see you later,” she said, placing a kiss to Sam’s cheek and a sharing a chaste kiss with Dean before she disappeared into the flames.

~000~000~000~

“Enter,” Kingsley’s voice called, as Hermione knocked on the door of his office.

“Good morning, Kings,” she greeted with a smile as she stepped into the office.

“Ah, it’s good to see you’re feeling better, Mrs. Winchester,” he greeted. Hermione froze in her steps to his desk and he chuckled at her. “I think you have some explaining to do, don’t you?” He said.

She nodded dumbly, before making her way to the chair on the other side of his desk and taking a seat.

“So, what really happened and where have you been?”

“It’s a long story,” she sighed.

“I’ve got time,” he sat back in his seat and folded his hands, knowing it was going to be an intriguing tale.

“I truly haven’t been well since returning to England.”

“Yes, I was witness to that, you looked awful.”

“Thanks,” she scowled and he chuckled. She shook her head, getting back on topic. “It turns out, Dean Winchester had a similar reaction as I. Harry called for Castiel almost a week ago and he took me to Dean, and when he did we both started to heal, but we were unconscious for four days. Dean and I have been in a relationship since the battle,” she said and his eyes widened in surprise. “Our relationship was strange and we didn’t understand it, or why we behaved the way we did with each other, but it became clear after we woke.”

She lifted her left hand and his eyes almost fell out of his head when he saw the runic tattoo, she bit her tongue to stop herself from laughing.

“It turns out, we’re fated, oh, and we’re also married. Our health was suffering due to the separation between us, and we only discovered the news two days ago.”

“You’re fated to a muggle?” He questioned slowly.

She bit her lip. “There’s other factors involved that I don’t wish to go into since it could put both myself and Dean in danger, should the wrong people get wind of it, but yes, we’re fated, and it has something to do with my parents. My mother wasn’t who I thought she was, and that’s all I can tell you.”

He nodded in understanding. “Are you happy in being married to this Dean Winchester?”

She smiled at him, a bright, wide smile that he hadn’t seen in over a decade. “Yes, I am. He’s not who he used to be when we first met. Now he’d take a bullet for me, rather than being the one to pull the trigger, and I’d do the same for him. He’s more open-minded about the world and magic and his first instinct is no longer to kill. If you see him now, you’d easily be able to tell he’s a different man, a better man.”

“No man will ever deserve you, no matter how great,” Kingsley said softly, and she blushed.

“Mimsy approves,” she said.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow, knowing how protective the little house-elf was over Hermione. “Well then, he must be good man,” he commented and she beamed at him.

“I love him, I truly do, and I can’t imagine my life without him. I can’t understand how I functioned without him, to be honest with you. My life is so much better now, so much simpler and clearer. He just makes everything better,” she sighed and a small smile tugged at his mouth. “Please don’t tell anyone about my marriage,” she pleaded. “We’re still coming to terms with it ourselves, and if certain people get wind of it before I have time to ease them into it slowly, it’ll be a nightmare.”

He nodded. “Of course, but you don’t have long, your personal records have all been magically updated, your next of kin is no longer Harry, but Dean, your marital status has changed and your name’s been legally changed to Hermione Winchester, too, which people are definitely going to notice.”

“I didn’t change my name,” she frowned.

“No, the records did it automatically when the bond was formed. If you wish to change it back, you can do so but it would be a lot of hassle.”

She sighed. “I’m not against having Dean’s name, I just wanted a little more time before the press discovered I was married and no longer Europe’s most eligible bachelorette,” she muttered in annoyance and he chuckled at her.

“I suspect you have a few days maximum, and if you want the hype to die down quickly, you should allow for an interview to introduce the Wizarding World to your new husband.”

“I’ll speak with Dean when I get home.”

“He’s here?” He asked curiously.

“Both he and his brother are at my apartment. We didn’t want to be apart again, and I promised I’d show him the wonders of the Wizarding World. He’s been doing the same for me with the supernatural world, now it’s my turn.”

“Are you going to introduce him to the others?”

“I don’t have a choice. Harry knows everything, well, everything before we discovered we were married that is, and I know he’ll be on Dean’s side. He likes him.”

“Well, to have both Mimsy’s _and_ Harry’s approval is a remarkable thing indeed; I think I want to meet this Dean Winchester again.”

“I’ll set it up before we head back to the States,” she chuckled. “Now, enough about my marriage, let’s talk shop. I’ve been going over our arrest statistics and....”

~000~000~000~

“I’m bored,” Sam whined.

“I’m hungry,” Dean shrugged.

“I’m exhausted,” Hermione sighed, stepping out of the fireplace and slumping down onto the armchair.

“Busy day?” Dean questioned.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” she ran her hands through her hair, making it frizzier than it already was. “I have another three days of training the new recruits and half of them can’t even hold their wands the right way round; I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to intervene and stop someone from hexing themselves as they had their wand pointed in the wrong direction.”

Sam and Dean snorted.

“Not too bright then,” Dean commented.

“No, that’s not the problem,” she shook her head. “In order to even get into the training programme you have to have graduated with Exceeding Expectations or above, in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration and Potions, and none of those are easy subjects, believe me. They’re smart enough, they just get star struck when I’m in the room; they’re too busy staring at me rather than listening to instructions as they should be.”

Dean’s amused expression dropped immediately and Sam snorted at the possessiveness that flashed across his brother’s face.

“Never mind though, only three more days and I can move onto the interview process. Right, just give me a few minutes to get changed and we’ll head out for Diagon Alley, we’ll get some dinner whilst I’m out. Dean, I need to talk to you about something,” she said, and then she left the room heading to her bedroom.

Dean shrugged at Sam’s raised eyebrow, before following after Hermione. She disappeared into the closet and he sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to emerge.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” He asked.

“How do you feel about getting your photo taken?” Her voice carried over to him, as he heard the hangers scraping against the metal bar holding them up.

“Why?” He asked warily.

She stepped out wearing a blue blouse and a pair of black boots, not bothering to change her black skinny jeans.

“This morning I was made aware of something,” she told him, as she went over to the vanity and sat down, picking up her hairbrush.

“And that is?”

“My name’s changed.”

“What?” He frowned in confusion.

“We talked about whether I should take your name or not, well, it appears I already have. Kingsley called me Mrs. Winchester when he first saw me. It turns out my personal records within The Ministry have automatically updated themselves. You’re my next of kin, I now have your name and my marital status has changed, too. It happened as soon as our bond was formed. This means my medical records will have changed, too, as well as my banking information and it will be made public.” She turned on the stool to face him. “People are going to start noticing and sooner or later, the press is going to get wind of the fact I’m now married. Kingsley reckons we have a few days maximum, before I start getting bombarded with requests for interviews and photoshoots, and I’ll be in the news for a while.” He frowned at that. “The only way to deal with this is to control what is seen, written and said. If we give them what they want, the hype will hopefully die down a lot quicker than usual.”

“So what do you want to do?”

She bit her lip in thought. “I’m not ashamed of you, Dean, and I don’t want to hide the fact that I’m married to you, despite our circumstances, I’m happy and I don’t want to keep you a secret. The press won’t leave me alone when they discover I’m married and they’ll hound me until they have everything they want. If it’s alright with you, I want to approve the set up of an interview. We’ll have the questions vetted before we sit for the Spanish Inquisition and we’ll provide a few photos of our approval, and that’s it. That’s all they’re getting from us.”

“I’m not comfortable with the idea of an entire world knowing who and what I am, but if you think it’s the best move, then we should do it.”

“I’m not comfortable with it either, but if we control the information flow, we control the situation.” She stood up and walked over to him and he pulled her down until she sat in his lap, his arms wrapped around her. “We don’t have long before we’re discovered, Kingsley said a few days, in all honesty, I think we have two at most. They know I’m back in England and they always focus their attention on me when I return, so don’t be surprised if you get the suspicion we’re being followed, because we probably are.”

“I don’t like this,” he muttered.

“Neither do I,” she said softly. “But it’s the only option we have available to us, of which we can use to our advantage. But this doesn’t give us a lot of time.”

“For what?”

“To introduce you to my family.” He paled and she chuckled at him, “I know you’re dreading it, but we need all the support we can get when the press gets wind of our marriage. We’ll ease them into it, but we don’t have a lot of time, so I’m sorry to have to throw you in at the deep end, but I’m going to call a family meeting which hasn’t been done since Draco and Luna announced they were engaged a few years ago, so the family will know that it’s serious. The kids will be taken care of, so you don’t have to worry about sticky fingers and snotty noses just yet. It’ll only be my siblings and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but this means Ron’s going to be there. I doubt anyone would mind if you punched him in the face, but please, try to remain calm when he’s around. He’s a dickhead.”

“If he says anything to upset you, I’m not going to punch him; I’m going to shoot him.” She laughed. “I’m being serious.”

“I know you are,” she replied. “Right then, I’ll call the meeting now and we’ll head into Diagon Alley, I know I said we’d get dinner whilst we’re out, but Mrs. Weasley will cook a feast that will feed everyone and there’ll still be leftovers. So, let’s go.”

She stood up and left for the living room with Dean following behind her.

“How are you going to call the meeting?” He asked her curiously.

“What meeting?” Sam asked.

“I’ll explain later,” she told him. “I’m going to use a method that we used during the war.” She pulled her wand from her boot, “ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” she muttered, and the blue-silver otter burst from the tip of her wand, swarming her in the air and she laughed as Dean and Sam blinked in surprise.

“This is my Patronus, and if you ever have doubts that I’m a dark witch, this would clear everything up. A Patronus is a very difficult form of magic that most don’t even attempt due it’s difficulty, and only light magic practitioners are able to attempt it. The Patronus is essentially a part of you, of your magic, personality and soul, and it shows itself in the form of your spirit animal.” She explained. She then turned her attention to the otter.

“Yes, I’m better now and I’m sorry for worrying you all, I just had the flu and needed some time to get over the worst of it. I’m calling a family meeting at The Burrow, six o’clock, and I want everyone to be in attendance, and if someone can get a hold of Charlie and try and convince him to come, that would be great. If you can have someone look after the children, I’d appreciate it. This is an adult’s only meeting and I’m bringing two guests with me, so please, everyone needs to be on your best behaviour.” She sent the otter off with the message. “Right then, we have a couple of hours, let’s show you the wonders of Diagon Alley,” she clapped her hands excitedly.


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 6

“What is this place?” Sam whispered in awe, his eyes wide and darting about trying to take everything in and Dean was in a similar state, seeing the flashing signs, the magical window displays, the patrons shopping and children running about and laughing, with shopping bags floating behind their owners.

“This is Diagon Alley, our shopping mall.”

“It’s amazing.”

“No, it’s magical,” Hermione said, looking around with a fond smile on her face. She started walking down the alley, and they followed her, Sam beside her and Dean with his arm around her shoulders. “Potions, sports, candy, books, ice-cream, broomsticks, owls, familiars and pets, quills, second-hand items, newspaper, bank, jokes and pranks, clothing, a second newspaper, beauty products, pub, publishers and an expensive clothing shop.” She pointed out each one as she spoke.

“It’s just like a regular town, only...”

“Magical?” Hermione chuckled. “Told you, Sam. We live just as you do; we have the same needs and wants, the same feelings and emotions. We’re human, only we’re born with magic. And you think that is amazing, wait until you see Hogwarts which we’re visiting on Monday.”

“It’s Thursday today.”

“I know, so we better get you used to things such as this so you don’t look like an idiot when I’m giving my lecture.”

She walked off, leaving a gawking Sam and a chuckling Dean before they caught up to her.

~000~000~000~

“And the bank is run by goblins?”

“Yes,”

“And the ice-cream parlour has over five hundred flavours to choose from and some glow in the dark, but it’s edible?”

“Yes,”

“And you can just walk into the store and walk out with an owl, without anyone giving you a second glance?”

“Yes,”

“And you have a sport in which takes place hundreds of feet in the air, with the use of brooms and it’s basically dodgeball, basketball and baseball rolled into one.”

“Yes,”

“My head hurts,” he frowned, rubbing at his temples and she chuckled at him.

“Well, it’s only going to get worse. We have less than an hour before we’re due at The Burrow, and we’ll take that time to have a look around this place.”

“Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes,” Dean read the sign aloud, and he appeared impressed by the giant rabbit being pulled out of the hat.

“My brother, George, is the owner of this place. He’s got one in Hogsmeade, a Wizarding village near Hogwarts, and he’s looking at properties in France. He’s doing well for himself, especially since he lost his twin brother, Fred, in the war. But his wife and children help him to manage. If we see him, don’t take anything he gives you.”

She took their hands and dragged them through the door, and despite it almost being closing time, the shop floor was crowded beyond belief. As usual, the displays were loud with both sound and colour, products were being tested and the shelves were almost empty being so close to the end of the day, and Hermione ducked when the cannon went off and the cannonball soared over their heads.

“This is the best one yet,” Dean commented and she rolled her eyes at him.

“Thanks, Mate, you’ll never find a place like this anywhere else in the world.”

Hermione spun around so fast she almost fell over her own feet.

“George,” she said happily.

He chuckled at her, bending down to pull her into a hug, lifting her off her feet and spinning her in circles. She laughed at him loudly.

“Put me down, I’m getting dizzy,” she demanded and he laughed as he put her back down.

“I see you’re feeling better,” he commented, and then his eyes fell behind her to where Dean was watching him with narrowed eyes for touching her, and Sam was looking around in amazement, not paying attention. “Does this have anything to do with the family meeting you’ve called?” He asked.

“Yes, George, this is Dean and Sam Winchester. Boys, this is my brother, George.”

George shook their hands, wincing slightly when it was Dean’s turn and Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. He looked down at her, before slinging his arm over her shoulders.

George smirked at the action. “I take it Ron doesn’t know.”

“No, but if he starts he’s not going to know what’s hit him. Dean’s not exactly a patient man and Ron will end up injured.”

“Well I can’t wait to see what you have up your sleeve,” George grinned. “My brother’s an arsehole, particularly when it comes to Hermione.”

“He’s not them,” she said suddenly, and George seemed to pick up on her meaning.

“Really?” He asked, sounding unconvinced.

“He’s different, George.”

“You’ve said that about all of them.”

“I mean it this time, Dean would never hurt me. Harry approves,” she said. George’s eyes widened at the news, knowing that Harry had never approved of any of her boyfriends, including Ron. “And Mimsy approves, too.”

“Bloody hell, what did you do?” George asked amazed.

“Nothing,” Dean replied.

“Ah, American, too, this is going to be fun. Well, if Harry and Mimsy approve, then so do I and if you need someone on your side, then you have me and Angie fighting in your corner.”

“Thank you, George,” she said softly. “We’re going to need it for what we’re going to discuss at the family meeting.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

“Well, we better get going, we’re meeting Harry before heading to The Burrow, I just wanted to show the boys this place before closing.”

“But we...”

“We’ll come back tomorrow, Sam,” Hermione promised. He looked disappointed but nodded. “Right, we’ll see you in a little while,” she hugged him one last time, before they exited the shop.

Hermione elbowed Dean in the ribs.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“For trying to break his hand, you prat. He’s my brother, not my ex-boyfriend and he took time out of grieving the loss of his twin, to dish out revenge on Ron for what he did to me. You should be talking revenge plots with him, not injuring him.” Dean scowled and Sam smirked. “Now let’s go, Harry’s going to meet us in The Leaky Cauldron, and I promised I’d tell him what we learned from Castiel before going over to The Borrow.”

She led them through the thinning crowd of shoppers as they prepared to head home as most of the alley was closing for the night. They stepped into the pub, seeing the dingy decor and atmosphere, as well as the patrons filling the tables and seats at the bar, with food and beverages floating about the room on trays.

Hermione spotted Harry sat in a booth in the corner at the back and she pulled the brothers over to him. Hermione slid in opposite him, with Dean beside her and Sam sat beside Harry.

Hermione downed the fire whiskey waiting for her and then she threw up a Silencing Charm around them.

“Bloody hell, Hermione,” Harry chuckled. “I assume this family meeting is to introduce Dean and Sam to the family.”

“Yes,”

“You sounded panicked in the second Patronus you sent me, what’s going on?”

“This is going to be a rush job, Harry, we don’t have a lot of time and we’re going to need all the support we can get before the press gets wind.”

“Alright, you know you’ll always have my support, and Ginny’s, but what are we dealing with? Does this have something to do with what Castiel discovered? Did he ever get back to you?”

“Yes, it does,” she confirmed before she lifted her left hand for him to see and Dean did the same, showcasing their runic tattoos.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Is that what I think it is?” He asked.

“Yes, it is.”

Harry blinked, before removing the _Silencio_ from around them and ordering more fire whiskey for himself and Hermione. Once it arrived and Harry put the galleons on the tray, he put the _Silencio_ back up, and he and Hermione both downed their two tumblers of fire whiskey, of which Dean and Sam found amusing as they did it in sync.

“Bloody hell! This is going to be a pain in the arse,” he said.

“I know; that’s why I need your support more than ever tonight.”

“You have it,” he promised. “Now, tell me everything.”

She took a deep breath. “The shortened version is that Dean and I are fated, despite the fact he’s a muggle.”

“Well that explains your behaviour and reactions towards each other, but he’s a muggle, that’s never been seen before, does he have any magical ancestry?”

“No,” Hermione answered.

“How do you know?” Sam asked curiously.

“I compared your family tree to the magical families of the US; you have no magical lineage, not even a Squib. I did it because I was curious and the fact that you were so aware of magic around you wasn’t normal, and I’m referring to the instance of the wards that were around the warehouse where the battle took place, the wards you could see but Dean couldn’t.” She turned her attention back to Harry. “I think it has something to do with my mother.” He raised an eyebrow. “It turns out my mother was an Angel.”

“Like Castiel?” Harry frowned.

“Yes, she met my father when she visited earth and she found her soul mate in him when in Rome. She took over the life of her vessel since she was apparently heading down a dark path after the death of her parents. She moved to England and met my father again and before their wedding, she gave up her grace and became human. I’m not only a witch, but I’m part Angel, too, which is why I’ve survived all the torture and dark magic I’ve been exposed to over the years, and it’s why I’ve legally died four times. My Angel side protected me. And it turns out, Dean and I are fated and we’ve been married since the night I came to you.”

“The night you turned up crying because of...” He trailed off and she nodded.

“What do you mean she came to you crying?” Dean frowned, his eyes looking to Hermione.

“Our first night together, when you were sleeping I went to see Harry. I needed him because I was too overwhelmed, and in hindsight, I should’ve known something had happened between us because my magic felt unsettled.”

“So you didn’t wake up for a sandwich?”

“No, but I did have one when I returned,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Back on topic,” Harry interrupted, pulling their attention. “So you’re married and have been for what? Six weeks?”

“More or less so, yes,” Hermione answered.

“And how do you feel about that?” He asked, daring her to lie to him. Hermione’s smile answered his question. He turned his eyes to Dean, seeing the way he was looking at her lovingly, and that answered his question, too. “So, you’re both happy then,” he stated.

“Yes, we are. Harry, my name’s changed. My personal, banking and medical records have automatically updated my name, marital status and my next of kin is now Dean.”

“And since your records have changed, people of going to notice your name change and marital status and they’ll sell the information to the press.”

“Exactly, I imagine we have until Saturday, maybe Sunday.”

“We need to get a handle on this. The last time they had a story on you as big as this was your break up with Ryan, and the press almost got you killed when they followed you into that hostage situation with Rowle.”

“What?” Dean growled out.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it, it was a long time ago,” she placated, patting his arm, but he didn’t look pleased. “That’s my point. This is why I need all the support I can get and more importantly, I would like everyone to support us. I know Ron isn’t going to be happy, but I’ll be more focused on stopping Dean from shooting him when he opens his big mouth.”

“I doubt anyone would mind,” he shrugged.

“Molly will.”

“Molly’s worse than Ron sometimes, or have you forgotten how she treated you our fourth year?”

“Thank you for the reminder, Potter,” she scowled and he chuckled at her. “Anyway, Dean’s agreed to an interview and photoshoot.”

“Smart,” Harry nodded. “Give them what they want but control it; they’ll be less intrusive if you comply with their wishes.”

“We’re only staying a week, maybe a few days longer, and I have no doubt news will travel across Europe quickly and to the States, before we even get back.”

“It’s more than likely,” Harry agreed. “Well, now that I know everything, I can help minimise damage. We better get going before we’re late and Molly sends someone looking for us.”

“I need another drink first.”

Harry chuckled. “If you show up pissed, she won’t be happy and you won’t be ready for Ron’s verbal attack.”

“Oh, I’m always ready for a verbal sparring with Ronald.”

“I’m aware, I’m impressed you even managed to pronounce those words, despite the fact you were completely off your face and you could barely stand without someone holding you up, but it made my evening, and Ginny’s.”

Dean and Sam looked amused by his words. She scowled at him, before taking Dean’s tumbler, which he hadn’t touched and she downed it. Sam pushed his over to her without her needing to verbalise her wishes and she downed that, too.

“Right, I’m ready, let’s go.”


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 6

“Is this place safe?” Sam asked, seeing the way The Burrow was tilting towards one side and with all the windows jutting out and the smoke coming out of the chimney in a thick cloud.

Harry snorted. “Everyone asks that the first time they see this place. Yes, it’s structurally safe due to it being rebuilt with magic. It was burnt down during the war, but when it came to rebuilding it, rather than going for something new, they made it an exact replica of what it was before.”

Harry watched as Dean seemed to pale as they neared the building and Hermione clung to him, also looking pale.

“Relax, Hermione, you know they’ll freak out but they’ll see sense. Are you telling them you’re married? Or that you’re fated?”

“I haven’t decided yet, I wanted to ease them into it, so we’ll see how it goes before I make my decision,” she replied.

They made it to the door and Harry walked straight through, and the chatter coming from inside reached their ears.

“I’ve got your back,” Dean muttered into her ear.

“I’m going to need it,” she replied. “How many weapons do you have on you?”

“Two handguns and a silver knife, Sammy should have the same, why?”

“Just curious,” she shrugged before she took a deep breath.

She put her arm through Sam’s and took Dean by the hand, dragging them into the house and closing the door behind them. Their eyes moved around the room, seeing that it was obviously used often as the furniture was well worn and mismatched, photographs lined the walls of a lot of redheads and other children and women, which they deducted were the wives and children of the sons and the only redheaded young woman who must’ve been the sister, and Harry’s wife, judging by the fact he was with her in the photo, along with their children.

She led them to the kitchen and pushed open the door and they stepped in.

Dean’s eyes widened at the number of people in the room, that must’ve been magically altered to fit them all in. He recognised Harry, George and Draco, but the others he didn’t, and by his count, there were fourteen people sat around the table, not including the three of them and the newborn baby in the blonde woman’s arms. Fear washed over him, but he reined it in when Hermione’s hand squeezed his.

All eyes turned to them and he felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hello, everyone,” she smiled, and understanding seemed to wash across the room as it remained silent and no one got up from their seats to greet Hermione. “I would like to thank you all for attending this family meeting of which I know I didn’t give you much notice, but we don’t have a lot of time, so we need to get on with it.”

“First of all, I would like to say that I’m feeling much better and I thank you for your concern over my health, and there is no more cause for worry, I just had a bad case of the muggle flu. Now that’s over, I would like to introduce to you two very important people in my life. I know Draco and Harry know who they, but for those who don’t, this is Dean and Sam Winchester.”

Dean nodded, whilst Sam gave them a wave and a smile, seeing as he was the friendlier of the two.

“Boys, do you think you can keep up whilst I introduce you to everyone?” Hermione asked and chuckles rang out, and they both nodded. “Right then, here we go, we have, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Bill and his wife Fleur, Charlie...”

“Claire couldn’t make it, she’s on the night shift,” he injected apologetically.

Hermione waved him off. “Percy and his wife, Audrey, George and his wife Angelina, Ronald.”

Dean stiffened beside her and she squeezed his hand tighter as his eyes narrowed on him, and Ron had quickly figured out what he was Hermione when he saw her holding his hand and he wasn’t pleased either.

“You’ve met Harry, and that’s his wife, Ginny, and you’ve met, Draco, and that’s his wife, Luna and their baby boy, Scorpius.”

“It’s nice to meet you boys,” Mrs. Weasley spoke.

She stood up from her chair and made her way over to them, hugging Hermione and then she pulled Dean and Sam into a hug, much to their surprise and Hermione’s amusement. Dean cleared his throat and shifted on his feet nervously as she made her way back to her seat.

“And now that introductions are over, let’s get started with this meeting,” the older woman said, and she gestured to the three empty seats at the end of the table.

Hermione took the seat at the end of the table, Sam took the seat on her left, putting him next to Draco and Dean sat on her right, putting him next to Harry. She silently thanked her best friend, knowing he had done it on purpose; he winked at her in response.

“Right, I had hoped to ease everyone into this, but as I said, we don’t have a lot of time before the press gets wind.”

“And what are we dealing with?” Bill asked curiously. “How serious is it if it involves the press?”

“A story bigger than my break up with Ryan,” she answered and Dean noted the looks of anger and disgust that crossed everyone’s faces at the mention of the name, well, except for Ron, who was eyeing him with hatred.

“Well then, you best explain it to us,” Mr. Weasley said.

She took a deep breath, her hand clutching Dean’s beneath the table. “Well, it’s a bit complicated but...”

“Oh, it’s not complicated,” Ron spat and Hermione flinched.

Harry winced, knowing that it was about to kick off and Dean was likely to hurt Ron.

“You’re fucking one of them, which one?”

“Ronald!” His mother scolded.

“No, Mum, it’s the only reason she’s here, she’s obviously shagging one of them, in fact, I bet it’s both. She’s always been a bit of a slut.”

Dean stood up from his chair so fast, it fell to the ground with a deafening bang and Ron did the same, his wand held in his hand. Hermione clenched her teeth as Dean glared at him furiously. Sam eyed Dean carefully and everyone else was surprised at his movement, especially since he hadn’t pulled a wand, he just stood there with his fists clenched.

“You’re the one that cheated on me, Ronald. I’m the slut, yet you’re the one that’s got a different woman on your arm for every month of the year, and you’ve got two kids to two different women.” She fired back. “I’m a slut, yet I’ve never cheated on anyone. I’m a slut, yet I don’t dress or act provocative or trashy. You should really think before you speak, that way we don’t all have to listen to you talking out of your arse. Let me clarify in case you don’t understand what I’m saying, I’m saying you talk a load of shit, of which no one cares for.”

Ginny and her brothers hid a snigger behind their hands, Harry smiled at her and Draco smirked at Ron.

“And as to your insinuations, it’s Dean,” she said lightly, causing everyone to laugh at her.

She tugged on Dean’s arm and he turned his eyes to her, she shook her head and he breathed deeply, before picking up his chair and sitting down, taking her hand in his and holding it on the table as he needed the connection to help him to remain calm.

“We didn’t know you had a new boyfriend, you’ve been holding out on me, Hermione,” Ginny said, wiggling her eyebrows. “And I must say he’s rather handsome.”

Everyone rolled their eyes at her and Dean seemed to perk up at the compliment.

“Please, Gin, continue feeding his ego so we can’t fit his head through the door.” Dean scowled at her and the others sniggered. “We haven’t been together long, two months at most. We met whilst I was on a case in the States. Dean has a similar job to me, only with fewer _restrictions._ ” Sam and Dean snorted; that was putting it mildly. “We didn’t exactly see eye to eye when we first met.”

“You don’t say,” Draco drawled, referring to the fact that Dean had actually shot and almost killed her. She leaned over the table to slap him over the back of his head and he glared at her.

“Children,” Mrs. Weasley scolded.

“Sorry,” they both muttered, and much to Dean’s amusement, Hermione looked chastised with that one word.

“Sam and Dean helped me to track down the Death Eaters’ headquarters and they were present during the battle, which they fought in. Dean even saved my life when Nott and Yaxley tortured me on the battlefield.”

They looked surprised by the news, of course, no one knew what had happened to her afterwards as it was kept a secret, and she believed they hadn’t yet figured out Sam and Dean were muggles.

“And our relationship took root that day and kind of progressed over the weeks, and here we are now,” she shrugged and squeezed his hand.

“So, Hermione,” Ron said, still standing and with a cruel twitch to his lip. “Has your new _boyfriend_ seen your scars?”

Hermione put her head down in shame.

“Yes,” Dean replied, trying to keep his temper in check for Hermione’s sake.

“All of them?”

“Yes,”

“Hideous, yes?”

“No, I have my fair share of scars, too. Hermione’s scars add to her beauty, I know she received them protecting the lives of others. Hermione’s one of the kindest, most compassionate and fiercest people I have met.”

“Then you can’t have seen all of them,” Ron replied, ignoring Dean’s words and twiddling his wand between his fingers.

“Which one? The one caused by a werewolf? The one caused by a hippogriff? The derogatory word carved into her arm? Or the one caused by a dark curse which almost killed her when she was sixteen, to be honest with you, that’s my favourite one and my tongue agrees.”

Hermione blushed bright red, several gasps were heard, along with several sniggers, whilst George, Harry, Charlie and Bill broke out into guffaws, and Sam grimaced.

“Nicely done, Winchester,” George praised, seeing the dumbstruck look on Ron’s race.

“You’re just pissed Hermione discovered you were cheating on her and she dumped you like the piece of trash you are. You’re just pissed that she’s obviously got a better career than you, and from what I can gather, she gets more media coverage than you, too, even though she’s on a different continent, meaning she’s more famous than you. She’s smarter than you and she’s beautiful. She’s a better person than you are.”

Ron laughed. “Better than me, she is not better than me. She’s a frigid bitch.”

“Not from where I’m sitting,” Dean smirked.

“I thought you said she was a slut?” Sam questioned with a frown.

“She obviously is,” he sneered.

“But you just called her frigid, honestly, Ronald, you’re such an idiot,” Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother.

“At least I can have children!” He finally snapped.

The room plunged into silence and Hermione felt her heart drop into her stomach as all eyes turned to her. Sam looked at Dean with wide eyes, and suddenly, their conversation about them trying for a baby made sense to him.

“What?” Ginny whispered, looking at Hermione with wide, sad eyes.

“She’s dried up in the kids department, and has been since we were eighteen,” Ron said cruelly.

“Oh, Hermione,” Mrs. Weasley said sadly, making to stand up.

“No,” she shook her head. She took a breath and lifted her head, staring at everyone bravely. “Ronald cheated on me because I told him the result of my fertility tests, which said I was unable to have children. But recently I’ve discovered that I _can_ have children,” she smiled at Ron. “It seems a certain part of your anatomy wasn’t up to the challenge, and I was left disappointed, as always.”

Sam, Harry and Draco all sniggered and they didn’t bother trying to hide it either.

“ _Reducto_!” Ron yelled, Hermione stood and deflected the spell immediately and it slammed into the wall.

And then there were gasps when Dean was stood beside her with his gun pointed and aimed at Ron, and he stared at it fearfully.

“Is that what I think it is?” Ginny whispered and Harry nodded, taking her hand over the table. The only one unaffected was Luna, as she sat there, gazing off into the distance with a serene smile on her face as she cradled her son.

“Did I forget to mention that Dean is a muggle?” Hermione said lightly.

“But you said you were in the same line of work,” George frowned in confusion, his eyes locked on the gun pointed at his brother.

“He is; he’s a Hunter.”

“A Hunter?” Mrs. Weasley frowned.

“Yes, a _Hunter_ ,” she put emphasis on the word, and then the penny dropped and gasps rang out. “They are _The_ Dean and Sam Winchester, the best Hunters in existence and all the rumours you may have heard are true, like how they don’t hesitate to kill. Dean will put a bullet in you if you insult me one more time,” Hermione told Ron. “He’s very protective of me. In fact, he killed both Yaxley and Nott for torturing me. Just like that, without blinking,” she clicked her fingers and most of them flinched as the sound filled the quiet room. “They’ve killed demons, and Angels and gods, fucking _Gods_. Trust me, Ronald, you don’t compare to what Dean’s capable of, magic or no magic. Oh, and he also has a knife and another handgun on him, and Sam has the same should he need back up. So I suggest you keep your mouth shut and maybe, just maybe, you’ll get to walk out of here uninjured and without the need for a body bag.”

Ron’s face was bright red, but he managed to keep his retort to himself and he lowered himself into his seat.

Hermione reached up and placed a kiss to Dean’s cheek. He turned his eyes to her and she smiled at him softly, before he lowered his gun and placed it on the table within reach.

“Just tell them, Hermione, there’s no point in dragging it out; I don’t think we can keep Dean from killing Ron much longer. Just like a plaster,” Harry said.

She took a breath and nodded, her hand holding Dean’s tightly.

“I’m no longer Hermione Granger, I am now Hermione Winchester."


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

Eyes widened at the obvious meaning to the name change.

“Dean’s not my boyfriend, he’s my husband.”

“You’re married!” Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

“Yes, and we have been for six weeks.”

“But you’ve only been together for two months?” Angelina spoke in confusion, a crease appearing in her forehead.

“Yes, it was an unexpected bonding, but we wouldn’t change it if we could. We’re happy.”

“You can’t possibly be stupid enough to marry someone you barely know,” Mrs. Weasley blurted out.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, as did Dean.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione snarked. “I’ll have you know I know Dean very well, better than myself in fact. And I’m not stupid. I love Dean.”

“You loved Ryan.”

Hermione winced and Dean stiffened beside her. “That was below the belt,” Hermione said, and even the others seemed to agree with her, judging by the looks they sent Mrs. Weasley’s way. “Dean is not Ryan. He would never lay a finger on me.”

“The only reason he’s married you is for your money,” Ron smirked cruelly.

“Oh, shut up, Ron,” Harry sighed, and everyone looked at him in surprise. “He didn’t marry Hermione for her money. I’ve spoken and met with Dean many times over the last few months and I’ve known about their relationship since day one, but Hermione didn’t want to jeopardise anything and wished to keep it a secret. Dean’s a good man and he’d kill anyone that dared to even look at Hermione the wrong way. He loves her, any idiot can see that. And he didn’t know about her financial status until I told him about it, as I wanted to see his reaction to it. He doesn’t care; he honestly couldn’t care less about her money. As for their marriage, it was an unexpected _bonding_.”

“Bonding?” Bill frowned, catching onto the word and eyeing the couple up.

“Bonding,” Hermione nodded, and she lifted her left hand and Dean did the same, seeing the many pairs of eyes widening, before the women in the room appeared to melt in their seats with sighs.

“We’re fated, and the bonding occurred during our first night together. We’ve been married for six weeks and we only discovered the news a few days ago, but we’re both happy and we wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Ron started laughing.

“Oh, Merlin, this is priceless. You didn’t have a choice in marrying her? Well, it makes sense; after all, no one would ever want to marry her of their own free will.”

Ron stumbled back with a cry of pain and his hand pressed to his shoulder as blood began to seep from the bullet wound Dean had put in him. Gasps rang out and they jumped in their seats, but the gun had been silent due to Hermione’s _Silencing Charm_ on it.

Mrs. Weasley ran to Ron as he cowered on the floor and everyone stared between Ron and Dean to stunned by what had just happened to do anything. Hermione calmly made her way over to Ron, pushing him onto his back despite the fact he tried to push her away.

“Oh stop being a baby, Dean shot me the first time we met. If you want it to heal, I have to have a look at it.”

Ron glared at her but removed his hand, whimpering in pain and allowing her access to the area. She ran some scans, before rolling her eyes and she conjured up some potions and gave them to Ron before bandages sprung from her wand and wrapped around the wound.

“It’s a through and through, he hit your shoulder and nothing major, you’ll be sore for a few days but other than that there’s nothing wrong with you. Just remember, he could’ve easily killed you and he still might, so it would be in your best interests for you to keep your mouth shut. Dean’s an excellent shot; he’s got years of experience over you.” She rose to her feet and made her way over to Dean, stopping by his side. “Thank you for not killing him,” she said softly.

“I still haven’t decided if it would be worth the argument,” he replied, his eyes on Ron as he was helped up and back into his chair.

Hermione turned her attention back to the horrified members sat around the table, while Harry looked proud that Dean had defended Hermione, even if he had shot Ron.

“I told you, he’s not Ryan. He protects me, he doesn’t hurt me. We’re fated, and we love each other, despite the circumstances of our marriage which is certifiable by magical law and in the eyes of Heaven and its Angels. We’re happy. And we’re not having a wedding ceremony, it’s pointless and we don’t want one,” Hermione said before it could be brought up that they should have a complete wedding ceremony and reception.

“The reason we called this meeting is so you could meet Dean and Sam, my husband and my brother-in-law, and to ask for your support. My personal, medical and banking records were magically updated when the bond between us was formed, including my name, next of kin and marital status, and you know what that means.”

“The vultures will soon be circling you,” Ginny scowled.

“Exactly, and I don’t want another Ryan situation. I reckon we have until Saturday, Sunday at a push, until I start getting bombarded with requests from the press, since someone is bound to sell the information to the highest bidder. We’re going to do our best to control the situation, and Dean and I will be doing an interview and photoshoot, and we’ll have the questions vetted beforehand.”

“Smart,” Bill nodded and she thanked him.

“You will likely be approached by the press, too, since I am now no longer Europe’s most eligible bachelorette, and they’ll want to know what you know. We wish to keep Dean’s lifestyle a secret as it may cause some backlash, and it may also put him in danger which we want to avoid. We have enough danger in our field of work without adding this to it, too.”

“You know you have my support, Hermione. I’ve seen the way Dean treats you, and I know you’ve never been happier than when you’re with him. And he’s had my approval since before you got together,” Harry said, and everyone gawked at him, knowing Harry had never liked any of her boyfriends, including Ron.

“You have my support, too,” Ginny said softly.

“And ours,” George gestured to himself and Angelina.

“And I know Mimsy approves of Dean, too,” Harry said.

Eyes were almost falling out of heads at that statement, as they all knew of how protective the little house-elf was over Hermione. She didn’t like anyone.

“She does?” Draco asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Mimsy,” Hermione called softly.

There was a brief pause before the little house-elf popped into the room.

“Mistress, Master,” she bowed.

“Hello, Mimsy,” they both responded, and the others blinked at the way she had addressed Dean.

“Mimsy, I believe someone would like your opinion on something,” Hermione said.

Mimsy turned around to face the others. “How can Mimsy help?” The little elf asked.

Bill cleared his throat. “Mimsy, what do you think of Dean?” He asked.

Everyone leaned forward slightly, waiting to hear her response.

Mimsy’s eyes began to water. “The Master bes a very good man. He not hurt my Mistress. He takes good cares of her. Mistress smiles and laughs because of Master. Master is kind to Mimsy and the other elves. Mimsy loves her Mistress and Master, and Mimsy will not be happy if someones says bad things about her Master, he bes a good man.” They were all staring at her as she had ended the speech with her hands on her hips and a stomp of her foot.

Dean’s eyes had softened as he looked at Mimsy. “Thank you, Mimsy,” Dean said softly, and she turned to face him.

“You a good man, Master,” she said simply. “Would Master be liking some pie?”

Hermione and Sam both started laughing.

“She’s got you down to a ‘T’,” Hermione spoke through her laughter.

“Maybe later, thank you, Mimsy,” he replied.

She nodded, and seeming to understand that was all she had been summoned for, she popped out of the room.

“Well then, you’ve got our support,” Bill said, for him and Fleur.

“And ours,” Percy said, for himself and Audrey.

“And mine and Claire’s,” Charlie said with a grin.

“I do not like the circumstances, but should you require it, you have ours as well,” Mrs. Weasley said.

No one bothered to look at Ron.

That just left Draco and Luna.

“For Merlin’s Sake,” Draco scowled. “We all know I’ve never refused her anything, stop staring at me, she’s had my support from the moment she walked through the door and I saw who she’d brought with her.”

Hermione’s heart swelled at his words and she had to restrain herself from hugging him, knowing he would whine about it.

“Thank you, everyone. And I mean it, I truly am happy with Dean. And I would say he’s sorry for shooting Ron, but he’s not, so there’s no point in lying. We’ll leave you to your dinner to allow you some time to process everything you have learned. I’m back in England for a week or so, so I’ll make sure to visit everyone and the kids before leaving.”

She quickly hugged Harry, Ginny and Luna, she messed up Draco’s hair, earning a scowl and she kissed the sleeping Scorpius’ forehead, before turning and leaving out the kitchen with Sam following her.

Dean stayed back, making a show of picking up his gun, dusting it off and putting it into the waistband of his jeans.

“Just so we’re clear,” he said, his eyes locked on Ron’s and everyone was staring at him. “If I find out you’ve said something to upset my wife, the next bullet won’t be in your shoulder.” Ron glared at him but wisely kept his mouth shut. “She’s told me all about her past boyfriends, and I’m not like any of them. And should I meet them one day, they will suffer the same fate as you, particularly this Ryan guy, who I can’t wait to be left alone with.” They all winced at the implication of his words.

“Now, I best be off, I’m going to put a baby in my wife,” he said lightly, to the many wide eyes, even Harry looked surprised. “She’s been waiting a long time and disappointed too many times in her life, and I don’t like to disappoint her, bye,” he walked out of the room, leaving silence behind him.

“I like him,” Ginny said, breaking the silence and everyone snorted at her.

“You just think he’s good looking,” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Did you see what I did? He was like Adonis.”

“Love you too, Gin,” Harry quipped, and she swatted at his arm, to the chuckles of the others.

~000~000~000~

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Hermione said, as she stepped through the door to her apartment and the brothers followed behind her.

“It wasn’t?” Sam asked disbelievingly.

“No, Ronald only tried to hex me once, although, that’s likely because Dean shot him.”

“I don’t feel guilty; I told you I was going to shoot him before we even left the apartment.”

“I know, and I’m not mad, it’s not like you killed him.”

She stopped when she reached the kitchen and she sighed, seeing the food waiting for them.

“Mimsy?” Sam asked.

“Mimsy,” she confirmed with a scowl and they chuckled at her. “The bloody elf won’t let me do anything,” she crossed her arms and pouted.

Dean snorted at her, before pushing her into a seat at the table. “Just eat it, otherwise you’ll be complaining you’re hungry for the rest of the night,” he said.

“The rest of the night? More like in two hours time,” Sam joked, Dean smirked and she stuck her tongue out at them childishly.

~000~000~000~

“I do, you know?” Dean said.

He was sat on the bed and Hermione had just come out of the bathroom, dressed for bed in Dean’s t-shirt, which he had been adamant she wear.

“What?” She questioned.

He sighed. He grabbed her hips as she neared him and pulled her to sit on his lap and he wrapped his arms around her. The moment she looked into his eyes, she knew.

“Yes, I know you love me,” she said softly. “And I know you have difficulty saying the words, but sometimes actions speak louder than words, and you’ve more than proved your love for me recently.”

“I still want to be able to tell you, but it’s like I physically can’t say the words.”

She frowned in thought, nibbling at her lip and his eyes were trained on the movement.

“So we say something else, something that we both know means ‘I love you.’ It’ll be our own unique phrasing that only we’ll know the meaning of.”

“And what are we going to use as a phrase?”

She shrugged in response. He buried his head against her neck, his nose running over her soft skin and breathing in the scent of her.

“I love the way you smell,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“Apples and caramel, it reminds me of pie,” he muttered.

“Well you smell like soap, motor oil and gun powder,” she sighed, as he placed a kiss to her neck. “And I’ve just discovered you can say ‘I love,’ just not ‘I love you,’ and that gives us something to work with.”

“I love that you smell like pie,” he shrugged and she chuckled at him.

“Alright, that’ll be the phrase. Instead of ‘I love you,’ we’ll say ‘I love pie.’ Give it a try.”

He breathed in her scent. “I love pie,” he muttered.

“I love pie, too,” she responded with a sigh.

She suddenly found herself on her back with a squeak of surprise and with Dean hovering above her.

“I don’t want you to believe anything that asshole said about you or to you. You are beautiful despite how you may feel about your scars. Say it, say you’re beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.”

He scowled at her. “Cute, you know what I meant and I want you to say it and believe it.”

She shook her head and looked away from him.

“You are beautiful.”

She took a breath, before reluctantly looking him in the eyes. “I’m beautiful,” she muttered.

“Louder,” he instructed

“I’m beautiful,” she repeated louder.

“Now say it like you believe it. You are beautiful.”

“I’m beautiful.”

“Yes, you are,” he pushed her hair away from her face. “You really are, Little Witch.”

“I’m Hermione Winchester now,” she said softly.

His entire face softened and he smiled down at her. “Yes, you are, and it suits you, too.”


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

Friday went by quickly with Hermione going to work and returning at three in the afternoon before they explored more of Diagon Alley and she took them to Hogsmeade, where she showed them Honeydukes –which had been Dean’s favourite by a mile- and The Three Broomsticks, before they took a walk to the Shrieking Shack where Hermione told them of its history, and she took them as far she could to Hogwarts, but they were only able to see one of its towers, which had been disappointing.

They returned to the apartment, where they sat in the living room, laughing and joking for the remainder of the night, before heading to bed.

Saturday morning arrived with Dean’s hands roaming her body, his nose tickling her neck and an owl tapping at the window.

She groaned in annoyance, Dean chuckled at her, before taking pity on her and he climbed out of bed and opened the window for the owl. It flew in through the window, dropped the newspaper on top of Hermione, before flying back out, taking the change that had been left on the windowsill with it.

Hermione reluctantly sat up and took the newspaper in her hand, her eyes scanning the page and she sighed.

“And it begins, the vulture’s are circling,” she ran her hand through her hair. “Hermione Granger and her secret wedding?”She read the title.

“I’ll see if Sammy’s up,” Dean spoke, before he disappeared from the room, returning with a still half asleep Sam.

He sat himself down on the bed, and Dean slid in beside her.

“Let’s hear it,” Sam yawned.

“Hermione Granger and her secret wedding? It has been brought to this reporter’s attention that Hermione Granger has undergone a name change and is now to be known as Hermione Winchester. Sources report that along with the name change comes the change in her marital status. You read right, Europe’s most eligible bachelorette has secretly tied the knot, and according to change in records, she has been secretly married for six weeks. But just who is her secret husband? When did they meet? How long have they been together, as the war heroine hasn’t been pictured with any man since her messy break up with Ryan Newton, and later the brief fling she had with Quidditch Star, The Sinful Adrian Pucey. Does her husband know of her colourful dating history? Who is he? This reporter would like to know, and nothing will get in the way of the truth. Follow along as we unravel the mystery that is Hermione Winchester’s marriage.”

“Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Dean commented.

“Just wait for it.”

“Wait for what?”

She held her hand up and began counting on her fingers. “Three, two and one,” she pointed to the window, just as the many hoots of owls made themselves known.

Sam and Dean stood and walked over to the window, seeing the hoard of owls heading towards them.

“For that, welcome to celebrity status, boys,” she sighed, flopping down onto her back and pulling the cover back over her head, as the hooting of the owls got louder as they grew closer.

~000~000~000~

“So what are we doing today?” Sam asked at they sat around the table eating breakfast, whilst Hermione was sorting through the owl post. Dean hadn’t realised just how famous Hermione was until he saw the mail she received.

She had the mail separated into piles of requests for interviews, photoshoots, invitations, and just general fan mail, and there had to be over a hundred in each pile, and that was in the last hour alone, owls were still arriving.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands. “Well, I don’t work weekends and I’ve shown you Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, and I don’t have it in me to be followed around Wizarding London all day, so, how about we escape it all and we go for a tour around Muggle London.” Sam sat up straight. “We can see the London Eye, and Big Ben, The Houses of Parliament, Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, Tower Bridge, St. Paul’s Cathedral, Madame Tussauds, whatever you want.”

“Really?” Sam asked excitedly and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Anything you want, we’ll have to make some time for shopping, too.”

“Why?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ve seen the limited resources you have, and seeing as we have a home base now, we can get you both some new clothing and supplies, and they can be kept there for when we return.”

“Home base?” Sam looked at the two of them confused.

“Didn’t we tell you?” Hermione frowned. He shook his head. “Oh, we’re using the Cambridge apartment as a home base now. So when we have a respite from cases we’ll be returning there, unless we’re visiting Bobby or I have to return to England,” she explained and Sam looked surprised by the news. “Right, I’ll just grab my things and then we can leave. Dean, can I have a word?”

He nodded in reply and they both stood and headed into the bedroom, where he sat on the bed as she stood in front of him.

“Okay, what is it?”

“I’m going to schedule the interview and photoshoot for tomorrow, and we’ll be doing two. We’ll do the first for _The Daily Prophet_ , even though it’s mostly full of shite, it _is_ the biggest newspaper in Britain and it’ll get the most coverage.” He nodded. “And the second one will be for _The Quibbler_ , it’s a strange tabloid that publishes articles about conspiracy theories and creatures even I believe are made up, but they can be trusted.”

“Why?”

“Luna owns it, it belonged to her father but he died a couple of years ago and passed it along to her. I know anything she’ll write will be in favour for us and it’ll help to boost sales for the tabloid, not that it matters, seeing as Draco’s the wealthiest man in Europe, what with him being the Head of The House of Malfoy and Malfoy Industries,” she shrugged. “Aside from the fact you need new clothing anyway, since most of your jeans have holes in them, the photographer will want us to look a certain way, which means we both need new clothing to wear for tomorrow. And you’ll need a tailored suit, too.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “As I said, they’ll want us to look a certain way, so that would be you in a tailored suit and me in a pretty dress, and then they’ll want something more casual, and I promise, you can wear your leather jacket for that one.”

“Will you be wearing yours?” He asked curiously.

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“No reason,” he shrugged.

She smirked at him. “Mr. Winchester, do you have a thing for women wearing leather jackets?” She asked amused.

“No, but I’m not against you wearing one.”

She chuckled at him. “If you be on your best behaviour, then I’ll wear my leather jacket more often. Now, I wanted to ask you about something.”

“And that is?”

“I know we said we’d use the Cambridge apartment as our home base, but I was wondering if we should buy a house instead.”

“A house?” He frowned. She nodded and moved closer to him and he pulled her to sit on his lap.

“Yes, a house. A nice, big house in the middle of nowhere with no nosy neighbours. We’d be the only residents for miles. If we’re going to start a family, I’m not sure if I want to raise the children in the Cambridge apartment, no matter how nice or big it is, and it’s a busy area. I’ve always wanted a house in a rural setting, but I’ve never had the need for one, and I’ve never had the chance to look around since I’ve been busy working.”

“So you want a house, in the middle of nowhere, with no neighbours?” He questioned.

She nodded. “I like the idea, but I wanted to discuss it with you first before I start getting people involved. We’d need the space as you’ve got to take into account our children are more than likely to be magical practitioners like me, and that’s going to be a pain in the arse to explain if we live on a muggle suburb.”

He shivered and she raised an eyebrow but didn’t voice her question.

“I have a realtor that I’ve known for years, and he’s got a knack for knowing which properties I will and won’t like. He’ll take care of everything, all we have to do is look around any properties he finds and if we don’t like any of them, then we just purchase a piece of land and have a house built, which I think is actually the better option as we can have it designed with specific needs in mind, such as my library and potions lab, and we’ll need somewhere to keep all of your weapons and resources. If we get magical contractors in they can have a house built in half the time muggles can, and the building will be more structurally sound, too. And to be honest with you, you can have a house built in the time it takes to make a decision on which house you want to buy, and it may be cheaper in the long run anyway.”

He had a thoughtful frown on his face. “You want a house?”

“Yes, but only if you do, too, otherwise I’ll be happy with the Cambridge apartment.”

He nodded. “Alright, then we’ll get a house to raise our kids in, and I think we’d be better off having one built.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said and he chuckled when she all but squealed in happiness and hugged him tightly. “Just out of curiosity, what properties do you own and why do you have so much money?”

She pulled back from him. “I received my inheritance from my parents when they died, I was awarded stipends from families that caused me harm in the war, I received reward money when I was awarded my Order of Merlin: First Class, then there’s my wages from The Ministry, as well as the money that goes into my vault every time one of my spells is added to a school’s curriculum, and I have a monthly income from investments. I’m careful with my money and who I entrust it to, and I’ve worked hard to have the financial standing I now do. And I’m not greedy with my money either, annually I give ten percentage of my bank vaults to a variety of charities. I don’t actually know how much I’m worth and I don’t want to know.”

“So who do you have investments with?”

“Only those I trust. I have investments in George’s shops, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, just as Harry does, but no one knows as we’re both silent partners. I have investments in Malfoy Industries, which I know Draco fought tooth and nail for with the board of trustees, but he’s never refused me anything and he was able to persuade them to allow me into the company, but only me. And Malfoy Industries have businesses in both the Wizarding and Muggle World around the globe, so they’re my biggest investment. And I’ve invested in the magical book shop, Flourish and Blott’s in Diagon Alley, as it used to be a family run business, but the family was almost wiped out during the war, so I stepped in. Again, I’m a silent partner but I own seventy percent of the business, and when Frank and his wife pass, I will be the full owner.”

“As for my properties, there’s Flourish and Blotts, the London apartment, the apartment complex in Cambridge, I have a beach house in Costa Rica which I had intended to give as a gift to Ryan, but he didn’t deserve it and so it’s never been used. I have an apartment in France, then there’s my parent’s house in Muggle London which I rent out privately, and the same family has been living there for five years now, and there’s my parent’s dentist’s practice, I just own the building, someone else deals the business side of it. Curiosity satisfied?” He nodded. “Good, I’ll just pen a quick letter to _The Daily Prophet_ and set up an interview time, and I’ll ask them to send over the interview questions so we can check them over, then we can go.”

~000~000~000~

“Put these on,” she handed the black robes to Sam and Dean.

“You said we were going into Muggle London,” Sam frowned in confusion.

“We are, but we have to leave the apartment first, the press is camped outside my door. So put them on, keep your hoods up and your heads down, and don’t get separated from me.”

They looked at each other before pulling on the robes, fastening them and pulling their hoods up, and Hermione did the same.

“Right, let’s face the vultures.” They made their way out of the apartment, down the stairs and to the door. “Ready?”

They both nodded. Hermione opened the door and the moment she did camera flashes were going off and voices were hard to distinguish between as everyone was shouting over each other to be heard. Hermione grabbed Sam’s and Dean’s wrists and pushed her way through the crowd of reporters that surrounded them.

“Miss. Granger? Is it true?”

“Are you married?”

“Who is your spouse?”

“Are you pregnant?”

“How did you meet?”

“How long have you been together?”

Hermione fought her way through the crowd, before darting around the corner, and with her hold on both the brothers, she apparated into an alleyway in Muggle London.

“That was horrifying,” Sam breathed heavily.

“I told you, they’re like vultures when it comes to me,” she answered as she took off her robes and slipped them into her beaded bag, and Sam and Dean did the same. “Enough about them, they can’t follow us into Muggle London, so we’re safe. Let’s start this tour; we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

~000~000~000~

They had seen all of the sights and took many photos with Hermione’s magical camera that had been charmed to look like a muggle camera, they had stopped for lunch in a nice little cafe and now they had turned their attention to purchasing new clothing.

“Welcome back, Miss. Granger, it’s lovely to see you again.”

“Thank you, Penny,” Hermione smiled at the young assistant, whilst also noticing the way the brunette was eyeing up Dean as he looked around the large variety of men’s clothing in the men’s department. “We’re in need of some new clothing for Sam and my husband, Dean.”

At her words, Penny snapped her eyes away from Dean and to Hermione’s glare. She cleared her throat and fidgeted on her feet nervously.

“Budget?”

“No budget,” Hermione said, and her eyes lit up in response. “But I would suggest staying away from formal wear, Sam and Dean prefer the casual style of jeans and t-shirts.”

“I’ll see what we can come up with, follow me, please,” she turned and walked away, and they followed behind her.

“I hate this,” Dean muttered.

“So do I, but after this, we need to head to the women’s department so I can pick up a few outfits for the photoshoot tomorrow, and then we need to head to Savile Row so we can get you a tailored suit, and seeing as we’re getting you one, we may as well get Sam one, too, you never know when you need a nice suit. Now that you’re married to me, you’ll be getting invited to the same functions as I, such as Draco’s annual birthday meal, and for that, you need to be dressed up to the nines.” He grumbled under his breath and she chuckled at him.

After spending just over an hour of browsing through clothing, of which Sam seemed more comfortable with than Dean, they left the men’s department and headed to the women’s, where Hermione spent an hour picking out several outfits, and once it was paid for, they slipped into the alleyway and Hermione resized the many bags and slipped them into her beaded bag.

They made a trip to Savile Row as Hermione had said they would be doing, and although Dean spent most of his time complaining, he wasn’t ignorant to the heated looks Hermione had been sending him when she saw him in the well-tailored suit.

After stopping at a few more shops where they got some new shoes, as did Hermione, and Dean even found a new leather jacket, it was getting towards six o’clock and so they headed back.

The press were still camped outside of the apartment and so Hermione apparated them to the Leaky Cauldron before they floo’d into the building.

“I’m exhausted,” Dean muttered, sitting himself down on the couch, and although Sam had a smile on his face, he mimicked Dean’s actions.

Hermione rolled her eyes, before checking the owl post for the evening. She paid attention to Luna’s and _The Daily Prophet’s_.

“Alright, they’ve responded,” Hermione said, sitting on the armchair after kicking off her shoes and pulling her feet up, getting herself comfortable.

“Luna’s good to do the interview tomorrow morning,” Hermione told them. “Of course she’s bringing little Scorpius, so we’ll be testing out your baby handling skills,” Hermione teased. Dean looked pale and Sam laughed at him. “And our interview with _The Daily Prophet_ is set for two o’clock tomorrow afternoon; they’ll be doing it here so we can control the environment. They’ve sent a list of questions for us to look over,” she said, before finding the parchment behind the letter and her eyes scanned the page before she snorted.

“Care to share with the rest of us?” Sam asked.

“Does Mr. Winchester prefer boxers or briefs?” She read aloud and Sam burst out laughing at the horrified look on Dean’s face. “I told you they were intrusive bastards. It’s alright, they want to know if I’m pregnant and that’s why I was married in secret,” she shrugged, Sam’s laughter grew louder. “Oh, and this is my favourite, what’s your favourite sex position?”

“Very funny,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“I’m not being funny; it’s what’s written here.”

She handed the parchment over to him and his eyes scanned the page and he choked on his intake of oxygen. “Why the hell do they want to know what toothpaste I use?” He asked and Sam was in tears by this point. “And they want to know what shampoo I use? What’s wrong with these people?”

“Oh, Dean, where to begin?” She sighed. “Where to begin?”

She stood up and made her way to her bedroom, leaving Sam and Dean in the living room.

“Hermione! Why the fuck do they want to know what I smell like! Hermione!”


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

“Remember what I told you,” Hermione said to Dean, as she stood waiting by the floo for Luna to come through.

“I know, best behaviour,” he replied.

“That’s for the _Daily Prophet_ , I meant with Luna. She’s already seen you shoot Ronald, there’s no point in pretending you’re a saint.” Sam chuckled from his place on the armchair. “Luna’s a little odd, and I guarantee you will never meet anyone like her again.”

Just as Dean was about to respond, the flames in the fireplace roared to life and Luna stepped out, wearing the strangest outfit either of them had seen. They shared a look and turned to Hermione and she shook her head subtly, as if saying, “don’t ask,” and she knew she would be seeing that look several times over the next hour.

“Luna,” Hermione said happily. “Thank you for doing this for us.”

“Not a problem, Hermione, we’re family and Daddy would be upset with me if I didn’t,” she said with a serene smile on her face as Hermione hugged her.

“Well, thank you anyway. Now, give me my Godson.”

Luna laughed lightly as Hermione all but wrestled Scorpius from her.

“Hi, Handsome,” Hermione cooed, giving her full attention to the baby and ignoring everyone else in the room. “Who’s a handsome guy? You are, yes you are, I could just eat you up, yes I could,” she said in a silly voice and smiling ridiculously.

Dean looked at Hermione in complete surprise with his mouth partially open and his eyes in danger of falling out of his head.

He’d married a _girl_!

Hermione was kind and compassionate, but she was also strong and fearless; she was a badass. He had seen her interact with others, but he had never seen her so... _Girly_.

He had never seen her with children or babies, and although they had discussed having children and they were currently trying for a baby, and he knew Hermione wanted nothing more than to have a baby, he never expected her to be so...Un-Hermione like. She was cooing and pulling faces for God’s Sake! It wasn’t his Hermione; the person in front of him was an imposter. He was sure of it.

He heard Sam sniggering and he snapped his eyes to him, glaring at him.

Hermione looked up and to them. “What?” She asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously at them.

Okay, it was his Hermione.

“Nothing,” Sam responded amused.

She looked at them disbelievingly before turning her attention back to the baby.

“I might just steal you from your Mummy. Would you like that? Do you want to live with Aunt Hermione?” She cooed.

Watching Hermione, Dean felt himself relaxing as she babbled incoherently with the biggest smile he had ever seen on her face, her eyes were bright and her features lit up. He couldn’t stop his eyes from falling to her stomach, wondering if she was pregnant yet, and there hadn’t been a lack of trying.

Sam noted from the corner of his eye how the uneasiness seemed to suddenly melt from Dean. His entire body seemed to relax and his face softened as he watched Hermione cradle the baby whilst smiling.

Hermione seemed to remember her manners. “Luna, you remember Dean and Sam.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “And I’m glad to see there’s no Wrackspurts around, now there’s no chance of being interrupted.”

The brothers looked at Hermione with raised eyebrows and she shook her head at them, before smiling at Luna.

“Did you discover a Crumple Horned Snorkark on your travels?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t, Luna, I’m sorry,” she said apologetically.

Luna nodded. “Daddy searched for years and never found one, but he was close when he visited Portugal.”

“I’ll ask my agent in Lisbon to keep an eye out for you.”

“I appreciate that, thank you, Hermione. Now, should we begin?”

Hermione nodded before she sat herself down on the couch and Dean sat beside her, eyeing the baby in her arms warily, as Luna sat on the other couch and Sam remained in the armchair.

“We agreed you’d send photographs over this afternoon?”

“Yes, we have _The Daily Prophet_ coming over at two, they’ll be here for a couple of hours as we need to do a photoshoot as well as the interview, and they’ll want to get it done for this evening’s edition. I’ll send over the ones we keep back.”

Luna nodded. “Let’s begin then.”

~000~000~000~

“What’s a Nargle?” Dean whispered into Hermione’s ear, as Luna had asked the last of her questions and was now muttering that she couldn’t find her quill, which she had put behind her ear.

“They don’t exist,” Hermione muttered back, smiling at Luna as Sam watched her mannerisms amusedly. “As I told you, she’s a bit odd, but she’s got a heart of gold and she has a knack for seeing what others can’t. We all think she has Seer blood in her.”

“Seer?”

“A bit like a psychic, only they’re rare and legitimate.”

“Oh, blast it! I’ll find it later, I’m sure,” Luna said, Hermione smiled at her. “Well, I’ll return to Malfoy Manor and begin writing the article so we can get it out for this evening’s edition.”

“Thank you, Luna,” Hermione said, “I wanted to have a quick word with you about something.”

“Of course, we’ll talk in the kitchen.”

Luna stood and headed to the kitchen, and Hermione stood, too, before making her intentions known to Dean.

“No,” he said quickly.

She rolled her eyes. “You need practice so when the time comes you won’t be terrified. Just support the head and be gentle and everything will be fine, he’s not going to bite you.”

She put Scorpius in Dean’s arms, shifting them slightly before leaving the room, ignoring the sniggers coming from Sam due to the pale and terrified look on his brother’s face, as he stared down at the baby in his arms. He looked as though he were going to pass out.

“It’s not funny,” Dean hissed quietly, not wanting to disturb the baby in his arms as he looked up at him with blue eyes and a head of white-blonde hair.

“It is, you should see your face,” Sam chuckled, before standing up.

“What are you doing? You can’t leave me alone with the kid! Don’t you dare...”

Sam just smirked, before leaving the room and heading to his bedroom where he had a magical textbook he wanted to finish reading.

Dean looked down at the baby and took a deep breath, seeing the eyes that were staring up at him.

“Alright, you’ve killed gods, demons and Angels, you can hold a baby,” he said to himself.

Scorpius wriggled in his hold with his arm outstretched, and as he brought it back to his body his hand skimmed Dean’s neck as he gave an adorable yawn.

“You’re not so bad,” Dean muttered, relaxing back into the couch.

~000~000~000~

When Hermione walked back into the living room, it was to see Scorpius sat on Dean’s knee with his back and head being supported, as he and Dean stared at each other.

“And do you know what I said? I said a whole lot of words that I can’t say in front of you, for fear of your Godmother ending my life. But in the end, we got the vampire and saved the children.”

Dean laughed at the sound Scorpius made. Hermione leaned against the wall with a smile on her face and her heart melting at the sight of the two of them together, only in her mind it was a little boy with green eyes and curly brown hair. Their little boy.

“I know, I’m awesome,” Dean said. Scorpius made a sound again, only this time it was more of a cry. “Oh, no, don’t start crying, I’ll make you a deal, if you don’t cry until your Mommy comes back, one day I’ll teach you how to drive, deal?” Scorpius quieted down and Dean sighed.

“Bribery doesn’t always work,” Hermione interrupted.

Dean’s eyes shot up to hers and he cleared his throat, sitting up taller, looking embarrassed that she had caught him. She moved to sit beside him, resting her head against his shoulder as she smiled at Scorpius.

“Not so frightening, is it?” She said.

“No, it’s not,” Dean agreed.

“Just think, this could be us one day.”

“It will be,” he corrected, just as Luna entered the room.

“Right then, I best be off, I don’t doubt I’ll see you before you leave.”

“You will,” Hermione promised, taking Scorpius from Dean, kissing his forehead and then handing him back to Luna. They said their goodbyes and Luna left through the floo, leaving only Hermione and Dean in the living room and she turned to face him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, eyeing her warily.

She approached him in a way that made him nervous, before she took his hand and pulled him to the bedroom, closing the door behind them and she pushed him until he landed on the bed.

He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, as she approached him and quickly climbed on top of him, slowly pulling his t-shirt up and off him. Her hands lightly trailed his chest and abdomen and she could feel his muscles twitch under her soft exploration. His eyes locked onto hers and she bit her lip, tilting her head to the side slightly.

“You know, you’re going to be a great father someday,” she said quietly. “Even if we have to wait years for it to happen, but in the meantime, we can get plenty of practice in with all of your nieces and nephews.”

“Just how many is there?” He asked, his voice taking a husky turn at the way she was looking at him. With love and heat and fire.

She frowned in thought. “Thirteen, and that’s including Ron’s children, who I have never treated as anything but my niece and nephew as it’s not their fault they have Ronald for a father, and I love them just the same as I love the others. But, I can’t wait until we have our own.”

“Whilst we wait, I can be your daddy,” he gripped her hips tightly.

“And...You’ve ruined the mood,” Hermione said, before climbing off him.

She laughed loudly when she was yanked backwards until she landed on the bed and Dean’s body covered hers.

~000~000~000~

“I still don’t like this,” Dean muttered.

“Neither do I, but it needs to be done.” She responded. “And anyway, I like that suit on you.” Dean stood up taller at her words and she rolled her eyes.

Whilst Sam was answering the door and letting in the reporter and photographer, she was putting the finishing touches on her makeup.

They were going to do the photoshoot first so they could get it out of the way as it would take the longest to complete. They were going to start off with the formal shoot, then move backwards to casual smart, then just casual.

Whilst Dean wore his well-tailored black suit, white shirt and black tie and dress shoes, Hermione wore a white long-sleeved cocktail dress with a modest neckline. The bodice was lace with a cinched waist, the skirt flowed down to her knees, and she wore silver strappy heels and some silver bangles to finish off the look. She had her hair flowing down her back in shiny ringlets, with her hair clipped back from her face with glittery pins. She wore minimal makeup, with a small amount of mascara and some glittery nude eye shadow.

“Right, I’m done,” she said to herself, smoothing out her dress. She turned around when Dean didn’t reply, to see that he was staring at her.

“What?” She asked.

“You look beautiful,” he told her.

She blushed and looked down at the ground until he stepped in front of her and lifted her head with a hand under her chin.

“You are beautiful,” he told her, placing a kiss to her forehead and she sighed.

“Hermione! The reporter’s here!” Sam called from the other room.

“We better get out there so we can get this over with.”

She took a deep breath and Dean took her hand and they stepped out of the bedroom and walked to the living room together. Hermione scowled when she saw who the reporter was, and she realised she should’ve been more specific about who was to conduct the interview.

“What’s with the look?” Dean whispered, seeing Hermione’s reaction of obvious dislike; she all but shooting daggers with her eyes.

“Romilda Vane,” Hermione replied, her eyes narrowed on the dark-eyed woman, as she looked around the room. Her long curly black hair that she was known for was left down to her waist, and she wore fairly expensive robes.

“ _We_ don’t like her?” He guessed.

“No, _we_ don’t,” she replied and he chuckled at her. Hermione took a breath before putting on a fake smile, walking forward. “Thank you, Sam,” she said. “Are you staying for the interview?”

“I’d love to, but I don’t think I’d be allowed to live if I do, so I’ll just head to my room and read that book you gave me.” She smiled at him and he disappeared from sight.

“Hermione, how nice to see you again, you look lovely,” Romilda spoke up, walking over to Hermione with a fake smile on her face to match Hermione’s.

Hermione released Dean’s hand and stepped forward to receive the hug and kiss to the cheek. “And you as well, Romilda,” Hermione replied.

Dean narrowed his eyes when he saw Romilda eyeing him up over Hermione’s shoulder.

“And who is this yummy specimen beside you?” She asked.

Hermione’s possessiveness flared up and Dean noticed, so he took her hand in his.

“Romilda, this is my husband, Dean Winchester.”

“It’s nice to finally meet the man that’s managed to tie down our Golden Girl,” she said, giving Dean a flirty smile as he shook her hand.

“It was difficult, but she’s worth it,” he replied.

“Oh my, American, too. However did Hermione manage to hold onto you?”

Hermione cleared her throat, not all happy about the way Romilda was looking at him.

“Perhaps we should get on with the photoshoot; we don’t want to run out of time before the interview.”

“No, that would be such a shame,” Romilda smirked. “I see we’re going for formal first?”

“Yes, I’ve had the left side of the room cleared of furniture to allow for more space.”

“Then let’s begin.”

Hermione led Dean over to the pale blue wall they were going to use as a backdrop, whilst the photographer remained silent as he set up his equipment.

“I don’t like her,” he whispered.

“Told you,” she replied. “Now I know you’re uncomfortable, but if we get through today I’ll owe you one.”

He seemed to perk up at that. “Anything I want.”

“Within reason,” she replied amused, seeing the look he had trained on her. She had a feeling she knew what he had in mind, which meant she knew he was going to behave.

For the first fifteen minutes they took photos individually and together in a variety of different positions and poses, most of which consisted of Hermione smiling and Dean brooding, which Hermione had to admit, did make him irresistible.

After that they quickly got changed into their smart casual clothes, which had Dean wearing white trainers, a pair of khaki pants and a blue button-down shirt, and Hermione wore blue skinny jeans with a white blouse, a black and white blazer and black heels.

They changed for their last few photos and it was clear that Dean was the most comfortable in his blue jeans, black boots, red plaid shirt and a leather jacket. Hermione wore black heeled boots, black skinny jeans, a red plaid cropped shirt and her leather jacket, and Dean barely took his eyes off her.

“Just the final category now,” Romilda said.

“Excuse me?” Hermione questioned, knowing fine well she hadn’t agreed to anything else.

“Your fans and _The Prophet’s_ readers want to see the side of you that you don’t show to the public. They want to see some intimacy between you.”

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

Romilda smiled. “Pyjamas, of course.”

“My husband isn’t a pyjama person,” Hermione struggled to keep her voice calm.

“Even better.”

Hermione’s glare was venomous, Dean was sure of it.

“Relax, Hermione, we’ll just wear what we usually do,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her to the bedroom.

He could tell she wasn’t happy as she stripped out of her clothes and pulled on one of his t-shirts, and although it fell to her mid-thigh, she slipped some shorts on underneath for good measure. Dean stripped and pulled on a pair of drawstring bottoms, leaving him shirtless.

“We both know she’s just trying to rile you up and she wants to see what’s under my clothes.” Hermione glared at him and he chuckled. “So, let her look, but you and I both know you’re the only one that I have eyes for and you’re the one I come home to.”

He kissed her forehead and she seemed to relax a little before she reluctantly allowed Romilda and the photographer into her bedroom. Romilda looked around before her eyes landed on Dean. Hermione was well aware of the way Romilda licked her lips and her eyes darkened, and even Dean had to admit she was basically eye-fucking him.

“What do you want us to do?” Hermione asked, a slight hiss to her voice.

Romilda snapped her attention to Hermione. “What you would normally be doing,” she answered.

“That’s not really appropriate for others’ eyes,” Dean commented lightly, seeing the jealous look that crossed Romilda’s face and he winked at Hermione.

Rather than speaking, Hermione climbed onto the bed and Dean did the same beside her, before they both settled into a position that was familiar to them. Hermione with her head on his chest, and a hand trailing his tattoo, whilst Dean’s arm was around her waist and the other he tucked behind his head, propping it up and they both looked as though they were watching something off in the distance.

“I love pie,” Dean said quietly.

All of the tension from Hermione’s body was released instantly, and she titled her head up, seeing him smiling down at her softly. She rose up and pressed her mouth to his in a kiss.

“I love pie, too,” she responded with a smile, before settling back down against him.

She could practically hear Romilda’s teeth grinding.

“That’s everything,” she said, before turning and leaving the bedroom with the photographer, allowing them to change back into their clothes.

“We really don’t like her, do we?”

“No, we _really_ don’t,” she replied, her teeth grinding and her fists clenched by her sides.


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

After Hermione and Dean changed back into their clothes, of which Dean couldn’t stop staring at Hermione when she put her leather jacket back on, they made their way into the living room before taking a seat beside each other on the couch.

Romilda sat on the armchair, preparing the spelled quill to note down their answers to the questions, whilst the photographer appeared to be using the kitchen table to develop all of the photos that had been taken.

“Right, let’s begin.”

“You are aware of the questions we have approved of, should you ask anything that we deem unwelcome, the interview will be terminated and you will leave, whether you got what you came for or not, understood?” Hermione said.

“Of course,” Romilda replied with a smile they both knew to be fake. “So, first of all, just to clarify, you are now Hermione Winchester?”

“Yes, I am, and this is my husband, Dean Winchester.”

“How did the two of you meet?”

“I am based out of the US, since my department works in conjunction with other Ministries around the globe. I met Dean when I was working a case and he and his brother helped me to solve it.”

“Was it love at first sight?”

Dean chuckled. “Not exactly,” he answered this time. “When we first met we didn’t see eye to eye, but it didn’t take me long to see the kind and compassionate person Hermione is, and before I knew it, we were married.”

“And how long were you together before you decided to pop the question? How did you propose to her?”

Now came the part where they lied through their teeth.

“We don’t believe it matters how long we were together, only that we knew we were it for each other. As for the proposal, it was unexpected. I knew I wanted to marry Hermione, but I had to make the moment perfect. It wasn’t romantic or surrounded by hundreds of people, it was just the two of us. Hermione had been working a case and she was injured, so as she was healing I took care of her. I was so worried about her, I knew I would regret it for the rest of my life if she was taken from me and I never had the chance to marry her, so I asked her to marry me, at the time I thought she was asleep until she replied with a ‘yes.’”

“And just how long have you been married?”

“Six weeks,” Hermione replied.

“Why keep your wedding a secret? Why keep your relationship a secret?”

“I did not keep my relationship with Dean a secret. I’m not as well known in the US, and therefore I can have a fairly regular life where no one cares about what I do, what I wear or who I surround myself with. My relationship with Dean wasn’t followed by the American media, it was public, but because it wasn’t in the media it wasn’t known to the world. My family and friends knew of our relationship, as did Dean’s, and that’s all that mattered to us. As for our wedding, we wanted it to be private with just our families and closest friends. We both have busy work schedules so it was difficult for us to plan a wedding, so one day, when we both had time away from work, we called our family and friends and we decided to marry on that day. We married on a lovely piece of land that belonged to one of our friends and the ceremony was short but meaningful.”

“I don’t see wedding rings, why is that?”

“We decided against wedding rings, they can be lost or damaged. Instead, we went for tattoos as it’s a permanent fixture, and no matter where we are in the world, we’ll always have that little reminder of the other.”

“Hermione, what first attracted you to Dean?”

Dean looked down at her with a raised eyebrow, looking curious to hear her answer.

“His relationship with his younger brother,” Hermione answered. “They bicker back and forth and they’re always finding ways to tease and taunt each other, but it’s very clear that they care for one another. Dean has an unwavering loyalty and protectiveness towards his brother and those that he cares for, and he would lay down his life for anyone that requires protection. He’s loud, annoying and sarcastic, but he’s kind and caring. He’s so unbelievably brave and self-sacrificing that he puts all Gryffindors to shame. He protects me, for the first time in my life, I’m not the one that has to protect everyone; he takes care of me. He makes sure I’m sleeping; he makes sure I don’t miss meals and he keeps me safe. And he never asks for anything in return. Dean is so incredibly special, that sometimes I can’t believe it’s me that he’s with.”

Dean smiled at her, before placing a kiss to her forehead and a camera flash went off, breaking them out of the moment.

“Dean, what first attracted you to Hermione?” Romilda had a scowl on her face, seeing the way he was looking at Hermione.

Dean’s lip twitched in amusement and when Hermione saw the mischievous sparkle in his eyes, she shifted her hand until it rested on his thigh and she dug her nails into him as a warning.

“That’s not where your claws belong,” he muttered into her ear, reminding her off the permanent scars he had on his back that were caused by her. She moved her hand a little higher and dug her nails in harder and he chuckled; he loved winding her up.

He turned his attention back to Romilda, shifting on his seat slightly so Hermione’s hand couldn’t be seen on his thigh, and he was a little uncomfortable with how close she was to his groin; he could feel himself twitch at the close proximity of her hand.

“If I were to answer that question fully we’d be here all day. In short, it’s her kindness and compassion to those less fortunate, her determination and ability to help those in need. Her unbelievable strength and bravery in the face of danger, her humour and quick wit and her intelligence. She has her flaws, like her bossiness, stubbornness and a severe lack of a sense of danger and self-preservation, but to me, they’re part of who she is and I wouldn’t change anything about her, she’s perfect the way she is. She’s fearless and she’s delicate, but she’s not afraid to put me in my place when I need it. From a young age, she’s dedicated her life to helping and protecting those that need it, and I love that she allows me to take care of her, even though she’s more than capable of doing it herself. She’s allowed me into her life and she’s made me a part of it, of which I’m grateful for. She’s changed me and I’m a better man for it.”

“So it has nothing to do with her money then?” Romilda muttered, her eyes flittering about Hermione’s expensive apartment.

“No, it doesn’t,” Dean said instantly, his tone bordering angry and he took a deep breath when Hermione’s hand squeezed his thigh, once more a little closer to his groin that it was previously. “I discovered Hermione’s financial standing _after_ our wedding, not before.”

“One more comment such as that, and not only will this interview be over, but I will make sure you never write another article for any paper again,” Hermione said, her own voice deepening, too.

Romilda cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Do your parents approve of the other?” She asked.

“As you know, my parents were murdered during the war and I lost them when I was seventeen. The Weasleys have always been my family, and they approve of Dean, and Harry has known Dean since the day we met as he was with me on that particular day. My family have a good relationship with Dean.”

“I lost my mother to a house fire when I was four years old and my father died in a car crash a few years ago,” Dean said. “There’s a man I look up to and he’s like a second father to my brother and I. And I discovered that he and Hermione had met previously, and so he approved of her and he thinks of her as family. As for my brother, he and Hermione are best friends, and he thought of her as a sister long before we married. Hermione’s family have welcomed us into the fold, just as mine has done the same.”

“We all know what Hermione does for a living, but our readers want to know more about you, Dean. What is it you do for a living? Where did you grow up?”

“I was born in Lawrence, Kansas, in the United States, and after my mother passed, my father took my brother and I away, but due to the job he had, we lived on the road. We never stayed in a place longer than a couple of weeks, so my childhood was spent travelling the US and helping to care for my brother. And now, my brother and I have followed in my father’s footsteps, and we travel the US doing the same thing he did, it’s the family business.”

“And that is?”

“We wish to keep Dean’s career off the record, should it be revealed it can put him in a lot of danger and get him in trouble with a lot of people.”

Romilda looked curious but she was smart enough not to press the matter. “Are children in your future?”

“I know people assume I’m pregnant and that’s why I was wed in secret, but I am not pregnant. Despite that, both Dean and I wish to have children in the future; we just don’t know when that will happen.”

“Do you plan to move to the US permanently?”

“Not at the present time. I am mostly based in the US and I return to England for a couple of days every few weeks, so that I may attend to my responsibilities within my career, as well as visit with my family. If I were to relocate to the US, it would mean giving up my career and my position as the department head, which I am not ready to do yet, seeing as The American Ministry does not have a department remotely similar to the one I currently run. And if I were to transfer over to the US, it would limit my reasons for coming home to only visiting my family, and it would be likely that visitations happen less and less the longer I am in the US.”

“Alright, that’s it with the questions,” Romilda said. “As you may or may not be aware, this month _The Daily Prophet_ is in partnership with _Witch Weekly_ , and upon discovering that _The Prophet_ won the exclusive of the year, they have asked that we play a little game with you, that they may publish in their next issue.”

“Is that so?” Hermione questioned, narrowing her eyes at Romilda, since she hadn’t approved of it and it was the first time it was being mentioned.

“Yes, it’s nothing to worry about, just a little game to see how well you know each other, it’ll be good fun and the readers will just love it.”

Hermione sighed. “Fine,” she muttered and Dean froze. “Relax, Dean, you’ll be surprised by what you know about me, we’ve got this,” she whispered.

Hermione and Dean were handed some parchment and a quill each, which Dean looked at strangely before they stood opposite each other.

“When it comes to answering the question, we would like for you to write the answer for yourself, as well as your partner,” Romilda explained and they both nodded. “Let’s begin. What is your partner’s favourite colour?”

Dean looked to Hermione to see that she was scribbling away at her parchment. He took a breath before writing the first answer that came to him.

“Aright, Hermione, please show us your answers.”

“Mine’s purple and Dean’s is brown.”

“Dean?”

Dean looked relieved when he displayed his answers, showing he had written ‘brown’ and ‘purple’.

“Well done, next question, favourite food?”

Hermione snorted before writing down the answer, and Dean seemed less hesitant this time.

Dean showed his answer first. “Mine’s pie and Hermione’s is everything.”

Hermione showed her answers, showing she had written ‘pie’ and ‘everything’, too.

“Favourite sex position?” Hermione glared at Romilda. “Just kidding, favourite musician?”

Hermione turned her parchment first. “Muggle classic rock artists,” she said, and Dean’s answer showed the same.

As the game continued, Dean had relaxed to the point where he barely had to think about the answers, and he realised that he knew more about Hermione than he originally thought, until the final question was asked and panic set in.

“Favourite spell to cast?”

Dean’s eyes shot to Hermione, since they were trying to keep Dean’s lifestyle quiet to avoid backlash, and they had done a remarkable job so far, they just had to get through the final question. Hermione locked gazes with Dean, before writing down her answers and Dean reluctantly did the same.

“Mine is the Patronus Charm, Dean’s is the Silencing Charm,” she said, and she had picked it for Dean, knowing it was the one he had seen her use the most so it would be familiar to him.

Dean showed his answer with relief written as clear as day across his face, as he put the same answers as Hermione.

“That’s a full house,” Romilda muttered, seeing as they had gotten all ten questions right.

Hermione walked over to Dean and hugged him and he breathed a sigh of relief. “See, I told you we could do it, have more faith in yourself,” she told him.

She pulled back from him smiling, before making her way over to the photographer so she could look through the photos, which took her twenty minutes. After deciding, she allowed them to take a photo of them in their formal wear, where Dean was stood with his legs shoulder-width apart and he had one hand in his pocket as he stared at the camera with a brooding look on his face. Hermione had her body angled towards his and she had one hand resting on his chest and his arm was wrapped around her waist, as she stared at the camera, too.

The second one she chose was of them in their casual clothes, where they were in a similar position to the previous photo, only Dean was staring at her intensely rather than the camera. She chose the photo of Dean kissing her forehead during the interview and for the final photo, she chose the one of them on the bed and cuddled together, just as the camera caught them looking at each other, smiling and then kissing, and they both looked truly happy in that moment.

She made copies to keep for herself before handing them over, and she kept all of the other photos, as well as taking the camera film from the photographer, so no photos could be used without her permission as she was in possession of the originals.

Hermione showed them both out before returning to Dean, seeing that Sam had come out of his room and they were both looking through the photos on the table, slightly amazed by the fact they were moving.

“Magic is awesome,” Sam commented and she smiled at him. “Some of these are really good, I mean, even Dean looks alright.” Dean scowled at him and Hermione chuckled.

“Yeah, they’re keepers,” she agreed.

“You wore white on purpose, didn’t you?” Sam questioned, looking at the formal photos.

“Yes, they would’ve been on our backs asking for photos from the wedding and reception and seeing as we didn’t have either of those, I gave them me in a white dress and Dean in a suit, which they can put a bridal angle on if they wish to.”

“I can’t wait to see what the article says.”

“Neither can I, since we don’t like the reporter,” Dean said amused.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “And why don’t _we_ like the reporter?”

“Because I don’t like her, so we don’t like her, that’s the way it works.” The brothers chuckled at her. “She’s almost as bad as Skeeter. We went to Hogwarts together but she’s a few years younger than me. She’s a female version of Cormac McLaggen and be grateful you’ve never met him, he’s like a bloody octopus and can’t keep his hands to himself,” she shivered. “She once gave Harry a box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day and they were laced with Love Potion, which Ronald found and ate, so it was him that was the lovesick puppy for the week,” she rolled her eyes. “And on top of that, she’s tried it on with three of my ex-boyfriends whilst we were still together. She hates me.”

“I kind of wish I was more brooding,” Dean commented and Hermione burst out laughing.

~000~000~000~

“Hermione, owl’s here!” Sam called.

Hermione ran out of the bedroom dressed in Dean’s t-shirt, and with her toothbrush still in her mouth. It was barely seven o’clock, but she’d had a busy day and she was going into work early the next morning so she could make up for the time going to Hogwarts would take out of her work schedule.

She went to the window and gave the owl its payment before it flew off; leaving the newspaper behind and she sat herself down on the couch beside Dean.

“Alright, give it to us,” he said, taking her toothbrush from her.

“Hermione and Dean Winchester. Upon discovering that Hermione Winchester nee Granger had secretly wed, we at the _Daily Prophet_ promised you the truth and as always, the truth is what you shall have.” Hermione snorted. “Liars,” she muttered. “This reporter was given the opportunity to the exclusive of a lifetime, as I went behind the scenes of our Golden Girl’s marriage, and what a treat it was. Hermione Winchester is married to a man that has now been identified as Dean Winchester, an American wizard, and as you can see from the photos below, he is one hunky husband and we can only imagine the beautiful babies that will be made by this newly wedded couple. During the interview and photoshoot, this reporter was able to witness the relationship between the couple and it’s evident to anyone with eyes that this marriage is based on love and trust. For the full article and interview with the newlyweds, more photos and statements given by Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Molly Weasley and George Weasley, turn to pages eight through to twelve.”

“Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Sam commented.

“You said she hated you,” Dean said.

“She does,” she answered. 

“Then why was the article tame?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. Hermione gave him an innocent look. “Did you threaten her when you showed her out?”

“No,” she said.

“You did, didn’t you?” He said amused.

“Of course I didn’t,” she huffed, crossing her arms and he looked at her disbelievingly. “I simply reminded her that I was not a person to be messed with.”

Dean’s laughter and Sam’s look of disbelief are what she left behind, as she snatched back her toothbrush and stormed to her bedroom.


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 9

“You boys okay?” Hermione asked amused.

The brothers nodded dumbly in response. She chuckled and turned her eyes back to the large castle where she had spent a large part of her childhood exploring and getting into trouble. A fond smile crossed her face, seeing the old structure of the castle melded with the newer and more recent renovations due to the damage that had been done during the war.

“You lived here?” Dean asked, turning his eyes to her and he honestly looked amazed, she had never seen such an expression of awe on his face.

“Not only did I live here, I grew up here. This place has had a significant impact on the person I am today. The professors, the portraits, the ghosts, the experiences, it all helped me to grow and learn, some for the better and some for the worst,” she replied. “This was home to me, and it will always have a special place in my heart.” She looked back at the castle and smiled. “Right, we better go, Minerva is expecting us and she doesn’t appreciate tardiness, she hasn’t changed a bit since I first met her when I was eleven.”

She took Dean’s hand and looped her arm through Sam’s, pulling them towards the castle and away from the entrance gates to Hogsmeade. Hogwarts was always beautiful in the spring, with the wild plants blooming, the trees large with big green leaves and the grass shining in the sunshine. The sunlight reflected off the windows of the castle and wind blew gently in the early afternoon. They were walking passed The Black Lake when Hermione spied the sun shining on the surface of the water, and the ripples in the water as the point of a tentacle peeped out at the sound of people being nearby.

She stopped in her steps, and the brothers tore their eyes from the castle and to her in confusion.

“Why have we stopped?” Sam asked.

She smiled and nodded to the Black Lake, and when their eyes followed her gesture, a loud splash was heard, water went everywhere and there was the Giant Squid, with large tentacles, a huge and fat body and it was purple in colour. They both gawked and she chuckled.

“Boys, I would like you to meet the Giant Squid.”

“It’s real,” Sam muttered. “It’s fucking real!”

Hermione laughed loudly as he both blinked and stared. “I told you so,” she said amused.

She pulled away from them both, put her hand into her beaded bag and pulled out a fresh loaf of bread. She used her wand to toast the slices before she threw them all into the lake and they watched as the Giant Squid’s tentacles darted about to collect them all and deposit them in its mouth.

“He loves toast,” Hermione shrugged before she once more grabbed Dean’s hand and hooked her arm through Sam’s and she pulled them towards the castle.

“Welcome to Hogwarts, boys,” she said, as they walked into the entrance hall and down the corridors, their eyes darting about wildly trying to take it all in.

“This's awesome,” Dean commented.

“If this is a school, where are all the students?” Sam asked, after fifteen minutes of wandering the halls slowly to allow them time to see everything.

“In their classes,” she shrugged. “Lunch would’ve finished about an hour ago. I’ll be lecturing the sixth and seventh years for both the care of magical creatures class and the defence against the dark arts class. That’s around sixty students, possibly less. The wizarding Britain population suffered dramatically during the war and after the first couple of years, but now it’s back on track since inbreeding is being eradicated, meaning more healthy wizarding born children are birthed, and Hogwarts’ population will increase in the next couple of years.”

They rounded the corner and stopped in front of two gargoyle statues.

“Why have we stopped?” Sam frowned.

Hermione smiled at him. “Mandrake,” she spoke.

“What?” The two brothers asked, and their eyes widened when they heard the sound of stone scraping and they turned their heads to see a staircase that hadn’t been there before.

“Password to the Headmistress’ Office,” she said.

She stepped onto the steps and pulled them onto them and they looked confused when she didn’t try to move up the stairs. Suddenly the stairs shuddered and began moving upwards. They turned their wide eyes to her.

“Magical staircase,” she shrugged.

“Awesome,” Dean spoke awed and she held back her laughter.

The stairs came to a stop and before she could knock on the door, it opened. Hermione shook her head and stepped in, the boys' eyes darted about the room, seeing the magical objects, the tidy and organised layout, the large fireplace and the many, many portraits on the walls.

“They are all the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts,” she explained, before walking forward to where Headmistress McGonagall stood with her arms out, waiting to accept Hermione’s hug.

“Hermione, it’s good to see you, Dear,” she said with a smile.

Hermione smiled widely and hugged her. “Thank you, Minnie, it’s good to be back and have the chance to visit you, it’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has,” she agreed, pulling back from the hug and her eyes darted to Dean and Sam. “And I hear you’ve gotten married, surprising since you never mentioned a boyfriend during your last visit.”

Hermione smiled sheepishly. “It’s a new development, I know. Minnie, I’d like to introduce you to my husband, Dean Winchester, and his brother, Sam.”

They both stepped forward and shook her hand, tipping their heads respectively.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” She eyed up Dean, making him uncomfortable, then she looked to Hermione, then back to Dean and she nodded to herself. “So, are you going to tell me who they really are?”

“I’m sorry?” Hermione said with a confused frown.

“I may not agree with the _Daily Prophet_ and its reporters, but I do still read it, Dear, and I know that despite what the paper printed, your husband nor his brother are wizards, meaning they’re muggles.”

Hermione blinked. “How do you know that?” She asked surprised.

McGonagall chuckled at her. “I’m a Half-blood, Hermione,” she reminded her. “I know a muggle when I see one, and neither of them are wizards.” They all stared at her, unable to think of a response. “And Kingsley told me,” she added.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Of course he did, he’s awful at keeping secrets. Well, at least you know everything and I don’t have to explain it all again.”

“It is true? Are you bound by fate?”

Hermione smiled and she showed McGonagall her left hand, Dean stepped closer to her, hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side, before lifting his left hand, too.

McGonagall looked at the golden bands on their ring fingers, and then to see Hermione smiling and Dean looking at her adoringly and a smile appeared on her face.

“You’re happy, Dear?” She asked.

“Very happy, Minnie, happier than I’ve ever been,” Hermione confirmed.

“Congratulations, to the both of you,” she said.

“Thank you,” both Hermione and Dean replied.

McGonagall chuckled. “Is it true of their identities?”

“Yes, they are _The_ Dean and Sam Winchester,” Hermione nodded.

“Your reasoning for wishing to keep their lifestyle out of the press is understandable. I had thought Harry was the trouble magnet, now I’m not so sure.”

Hermione laughed. “Yes, I’ve come to the same conclusion.”

“Well, I’m glad I had the chance to meet your husband and brother-in-law, and I can see you are happy, that’s all I wish for you, I can’t think of anyone that deserves it more than you.”

“Thank you, Minnie,” Hermione replied quietly.

“No thanks necessary, Dear. Now, the students should be arriving at your lecture in less than an hour, would you like me to escort you?”

“No, thank you, I’m sure there’s plenty that requires your attention, I know my way around the castle.”

“Yes, I believe you do, better than the staff and resident ghosts,” she said amused.

Hermione looked sheepish before she hugged her and then left the office, leading the boys down the corridor.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Sam commented.

“Speak for yourself,” Dean said. “I felt like she looking into my soul,” he shivered.

“She just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t hurt me,” Hermione explained. He looked outraged at the thought, and it made her smile. “Don’t take it personally, she doesn’t know you, not like Harry, or even The Weasleys after they saw what you did to Ronald for insulting me. All she knows is what she’s been told by others and what she’s read in _The Prophet_ , and she wanted to make sure I hadn’t gotten myself into another toxic relationship.”

“Where are we going?” Sam asked, changing the subject.

“Third floor corridor, it’s where my lecture room is. The bigger classrooms are usually on the third floor but there isn’t much need for them at the moment, so they’re rarely used. Whenever I lecture I use the same room so the students know where to find me. And you’re going to want to brace yourselves.”

“For what?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“For the moving staircases, they’re a pain in the arse to navigate, particularly when they decide they don’t wish to cooperate.”

“I haven’t seen any staircases,” he frowned.

“That’s because we’re only on the ground floor, there’s seven in the castle.”

“But you’ve been showing us around for almost half an hour,” he said surprised.

“I know, the castle’s huge. It would take weeks for me to show you everything.” They climbed the first staircase they came to, leading them to the first floor, before stopping at the moving staircases and they stared as they watched the staircases swing from perch to perch.

“Get ready, it’s coming around to us,” she said, and just as the staircase stopped in front of them, she stepped on and pulled them on behind her. “Hold on tightly, we need to get off there,” she pointed to a door in the distance, “And then we need to get on another staircase and until we get there,” she pointed to a second door, “And the next staircase should take us to the third floor corridor.”

“Should?” Sam questioned, holding onto the railing tightly when the staircase began to move. When he paled she bit her tongue to stop herself from laughing at him.

“Should,” she nodded. “As I said, it depends on whether they’re cooperating today, if not, it could take us a lot longer than usual.”

Thankfully the staircases did cooperate and they quickly made their way down the third floor corridor, with Hermione answering questions as they did so.

“Shit, duck!” Hermione yelled, before grabbing them both by their jackets and pulling them down, just as water balloons went flying over their heads and splashed against the floor, and a cackling was heard.

“What was that?” Sam asked, his eyes darting around. Dean appeared to be reaching for his gun out of habit and instinct.

“Bloody, Peeves, the school’s poltergeist. No one knows how long here’s been here, rumour has it he was once a student during the time of the Founders a thousand years ago. He terrorises the students and professors with pranks, he’s a pain in the arse but he’s harmless, he’s never actually hurt anyone, so there’s no need for weapons to be drawn,” she explained. 

Dean moved his hand away from his gun, and she knew it was difficult for him to do, and she kissed his cheek in thanks. She stood up and they followed her and she sighed when Peeves rounded the corner, water balloons in hand and a wicked smile on his face.

“Well if it isn’t the troublesome Granger, and she’s brought some new targets,” he smirked.

“Peeves, I swear to Merlin himself, if you throw another of those water balloons, the outcome for you won’t be pleasant.”

He tutted. “Telltale,” he muttered, blowing a raspberry at her.

“I’m not going to tell The Bloody Baron,” Hermione said, Peeves looked surprised. “Do you know what Hunters are Peeves? Muggle Hunters?” Peeves frowned. “Well, I would like to introduce you to my husband and brother-in-law, and guess what Peeves, they’re Hunters.”

A look of terror crossed his face.

“So you understand? Lovely, why don’t you go terrorize Filch, I think he’s in his office.”

Peeves gave a strange cackle before zooming around the corner and out of sight.

“Who knew, I found his weakness,” she said amused, before walking off, leaving the two brothers staring in surprise, obviously in shock to have been in the presence of a spirit that didn’t want to kill them or that they had to deal with before it hurt someone.

They quickly caught up to her as she entered the classroom and they looked around. It was a large room, and much like the rest of the castle, it had stone walls and flooring. Approximately twenty-five two seater wooden desks filled the room; there was a large desk at the front of the room and a blackboard behind it. A large medieval chandelier hung from the ceiling and there was a staircase off the side which lead to a small balcony and a door, which they assumed was an office.

Hermione waved her wand and the dust and cobwebs disappeared from the room, she conjured two chairs and placed them behind the table for both Dean and Sam, and then she perched herself on the desk, facing the desks, just as there was a knock on the door.

“That was well-timed,” she mused, before she took her wand and waved it, the classroom door swung open. The students filed into the room, taking seats at desks of their choice whilst whispering amongst themselves as their eyes darted between Hermione, Dean and Sam.

The brothers took in the sea of students, seeing that they were all wearing the same uniform of black robes, only they were separated by coloured ties and the coloured lining of their robes and the house crests. They narrowed their eyes, looking for any tells that they weren’t like Hermione, but they were and that’s when they realised, if it wasn’t for them meeting Hermione, they would’ve never been able to tell if they came into contact with a witch or wizard. They would never know that the students in front of them practised magic as they looked to be like regular teenagers; much like the ones they had seen when they’d gone undercover at the school a short while ago.

“How old are they?” Dean asked Hermione quietly.

“Between sixteen and eighteen, they’re sixth and seventh years,” she replied.

Dean looked to Sam with a smirk. “Hey, Sammy, some of these girls are legal.”

“That’s disgusting,” Sam grimaced and Dean chuckled, until he saw Hermione’s glare and he shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

“Sorry,” he muttered. Sam smirked at him for his clear fear of his wife, even if it was understandable; Hermione was terrifying when she wanted to be. 

Hermione turned her attention back to the students seeing as they had now all taken seats, and she noted that she didn’t need to conjure any more tables or chairs, in fact, there was a couple spare. Hermione hopped off the desk and removed her robes, showing her black skinny jeans, her black heeled boots and her white long-sleeved blouse that clung to her, showing her curves and the form of her breasts.

“Settle down, please,” she called, and the students quieted, giving her their full attention, she noticed the looks of awe on their faces and several of the love-struck and lustful stares of the boys, and so did Dean and he didn’t appear pleased.

“For those of you who aren’t aware, I am Hermione Winchester, Head of the Magical Law Enforcement and Auror Department for Magical Creatures and Wizarding folk in the Muggle World. I am based in the United States and I work in conjunction with The American Ministry of Magic, and with other Ministries around the globe. I have over fifty Aurors under my supervision, aiding with other Ministries to protect those in the Muggle World from the dangers of our world. We are the line between life and death for many, we deal with some of the most dangerous creatures and beings the Wizarding World has to offer, creatures and beings you may not have heard of, or you are yet to study.”

Her eyes flittered around the room, seeing the boys staring at her and the girls staring at both Dean and Sam. One of them, a seventh year Slytherin she guessed, even had the guts to wink at Dean, and Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“The men behind me are my husband and brother-in-law, Dean and Sam Winchester,” she spoke. Everyone turned their eyes to her and shifted in their seats at the warning in her tone. “To clarify, Dean is a married man and Sam, he’s not interested, he’s several years older than you all and the older students in here are barely legal wizarding folk; there’s no point in wasting your time trying to flirt, as neither of them is interested.”

She looked behind her to see that Dean looked amused, but he nodded in agreement to Hermione’s words, and Sam looked relieved for her quick takedown of the girls staring at him, and he, too, nodded in agreement.

“I’m sure you’re all aware that I have a very busy work schedule and I’m never in one place for long, but, I have returned to England for a short while and as a favour to Headmistress McGonagall, I agreed to take time away from my responsibilities to come and spend a few hours with you all, to share my experiences and expertise in order to improve your knowledge in the subjects of defence against the dark arts and care of magical creatures. These next few hours will be beneficial to all of you. Before we begin, do you have any questions?” Hands shot up in the air and she blinked in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting that many,” she muttered.

She pointed to a student.

“Why are they here?” The Ravenclaw boy asked.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “They’re visiting England with me as they’ve never left America and they wanted to see the differences between our magical communities, and I can’t leave them alone for too long otherwise they get in trouble, much like Harry and Ron used to during our school years,” she replied, to the sniggers of the class and the mock glares of Dean and Sam. “Question?”

She pointed to a Slytherin boy.

“The article said they were wizards, what’s their blood status?”

The room plunged into silence and Hermione narrowed her eyes at the smug smirk on his face, whilst she heard both Dean and Sam shuffling in their seats. She turned her head, seeing them both with their hands hovering above their guns as they looked at the boy with a dangerous look in their eyes, one she knew usually resulted in someone getting shot.

“Yes, they are wizards, otherwise they wouldn’t have been able to enter onto the grounds,” she replied, knowing the students wouldn’t know that McGonagall had allowed Dean and Sam temporary access. “Their blood status does not matter, a war was fought and won and many good people sacrificed their lives so that you could live in a world free of dictatorship and evil. We recently took down the resistance group of Death Eaters that fled to America, and now it’s over. Blood prejudice has no place in this world and it certainly has no place in this school.”

“My father used to say Purebloods are the founding families of the Wizarding World and only we should exist.”

Hermione took a deep breath; she would not let a teenage boy get to her. She wouldn’t! Dean on the other hand...

Hermione rounded the desk and placed her hands on his shoulders, digging her nails into him as a warning and to keep him in his seat.

“Your father?” She questioned.

“Martin Herrald,” he answered smugly.

“Herrald?” She muttered with a frown, nibbling at her lip. “Ah, I remember, a Pureblood found to have been a supporter of Voldemort.” Gasps rang out at her using the name and she rolled her eyes. “It’s my understanding he provided financial aid, as well as hosted several of Voldemort’s out of town followers. He received life imprisonment as dark magical artefacts were also found on the property, as were several Muggleborn witches and wizards who were barely alive.”

No one dared speak and all eyes were on her.

“I have a little life lesson for you, Mr. Herrald, not everything you learn from your parents is the truth, not everything you are told can be trusted and you should never take on the opinions or views of others, without doing some research and discovering what you believe yourself first. Purebloods are better than Muggleborns and Half-bloods? Then how is it possible that Harry Potter, a Half-blood, defeated the darkest and one of the most powerful wizards that has ever been seen, and he was also a Half-blood? How is it that I, a Muggleborn, am the head of a department that was created in order to protect the Muggle World and at the age of twenty-one? How is it that I, a Muggleborn, am an incredibly influential person in our community? And how is, that I, a Muggleborn, am wealthier than your Pureblooded family?”

Sniggers rang out in the room as Hermione locked eyes with the teenage boy. Dean had a proud smirk on his face and Sam’s lip twitched in amusement.

“Blood status means nothing, we all possess magic, we all have the same rights and we all have the same needs. If the topic of blood status comes up again, I will be informing Headmistress McGonagall and I am sure the consequences will not be pleasant. Whether you choose to leave this lecture or remain to learn invaluable knowledge that you will not learn from books or you professors, is up to you, but if you wish to leave, then do so now.”

He didn’t move.

“Are there any more questions?” Hands shot up once more. “Are there any more questions that aren’t about my private life, my husband or my brother-in-law?” Every hand went down. “Then let’s begin.”


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

“Right then, on to our final topic,” Hermione spoke, standing in front of the class after almost three hours of lecturing and she was almost done.

She was impressed, all of the students seemed to have been listening attentively to her and they had been asking more questions than she could keep up with. She had seen both Dean and Sam listening to her also, taking in everything she had to say and she knew some of the things that had been brought up surprised them.

“How can we identify a werewolf?” She asked.

Several hands shot up and she pointed to a Hufflepuff boy.

“There is no certain way to identify a werewolf, without looking at the werewolf registry which is protected in The Ministry of Magic’s Hall of Records, or without being informed by said werewolf, or witnessing the change for yourself.”

“Correct, well done,” she said with a smile. “Why may you be suspicious? What factors can be a giveaway?”

She pointed to a Gryffindor girl.

“For the most part, the werewolf is human but for one day of the month. The week leading up to the full moon, the werewolf will begin to show signs of tiredness, they may be easily agitated or they may have bursts of energy, or be more energetic all together. They are likely to be more sensitive to light, sounds, smells and tastes, or there may be an increase in their appetite. The closer to the full moon, the more likely the signs will be seen. After the full moon, the werewolf will be exhausted and require rest and the need for protein and sugar, but the next morning they should be back to their normal selves.”

Hermione beamed. “Correct, thank you. Despite their classification level of five, werewolves are harmless but for the night of the full moon, and now, we have ways of managing their change. The Wolfsbane Potion was invented by?”

“Damocles Belby,” a Ravenclaw girl answered. Hermione nodded at her in thanks.

“When a werewolf changes they are no longer human, but one-hundred percent wolf that survives on instinct and the need to fight for resources. The Wolfsbane Potion allows for a werewolf to keep the memories of the full moon, and it allows them to have some control over their actions. The wolf side and the human side are more or less, melded together in order to have better control of themselves, whilst also keeping their wolf instincts to keep them safe during the night of the full moon. The potion does _not_ prevent the pain of the transition, but it allows them to remain partially human, at least mentally. Many werewolves aren’t given the opportunity of the use of a Wolfsbane Potion due to the expensive ingredients it requires for its brewing, making the asking price ridiculous, most working families can’t afford to buy one dose, let alone werewolves.”

“Werewolves are considered monsters by most in the world but that is a stereotype. You can’t blame the actions of one on an entire race or species. Many will suffer due to the actions of a single person. There have been some truly horrific werewolves, such as Fenrir Greyback, who thankfully, is no longer able to hurt anyone else, but there have also been some truly outstanding werewolves. Who’s heard of Remus Lupin?”

Hands shot up in response. 

“Remus Lupin was one of the smartest, kindest and most caring men I have ever met. He was once the defence against the dark arts professor at Hogwarts and you can ask anyone that attended Hogwarts a decade ago, what they thought of him and I’d guarantee they’d all say he was the best DADA professor they’d ever had, including the Slytherins. He always put others before himself. He didn’t have a penny to his name. He wore tattered clothing and wasn’t always the most presentable, but we didn’t care. Remus Lupin fought in the war and along with his wife, Nymphodora Tonks, died in the Final Battle. They left behind a one-month-old baby, and they sacrificed themselves so their child, along with everyone else could live peacefully and freely. And do you know what? He was a werewolf. ”

They all stared at her.

“Not all werewolves are monsters, the majority live their lives away from wizarding folk, in the wild as they’re not made to feel welcome in society due to the actions of a few. And this is why the laws are changing, and hopefully, werewolves will be given the same rights as other wizarding folk. The right to own a property. The right to marry. The right to medical treatment. The right to enter public buildings. These are simple human rights and discrimination against werewolves is on par with Muggleborns before the war ended, and it’s unjustified.”

“My father used to say werewolves were flea-bitten monsters that needed to be put down.”

The room filled with gasps.

Hermione smiled sweetly. “Well, Mr. Herrald, we’ve already established that your father’s an idiot.”

The room burst into laughter and she looked behind her to see Dean and Sam both looking at her amused and with raised eyebrows, she shrugged her shoulders in response.

“Werewolves are monsters, yet your father’s serving a life sentence in Azkaban?” He glared at her but didn’t respond, conceding defeat. “Now, there are two types of werewolves,” she said, and she saw both Dean and Sam sit up straight and she saw the surprised looks on the students’ faces at her words, obviously not being aware of the fact.

“The first being the type our world is most familiar with, and that is werewolves that are wizarding folk. Along with their usual magical capabilities, they will possess lupine traits such as speed, strength, super-senses and advanced healing. Their lupine traits give them an advantage over other wizarding folk, but as the full moon nears, their traits strengthen. Werewolves are less susceptible to magic, and they are incredibly difficult to defend against during the night of a full moon, as they are near invulnerable due to their lupine traits, their instincts and their need for survival.”

“It’s known that lycanthropy isn’t hereditary, but it is contracted through a bite or deep scratch during the night of a full moon, if you survive the venom in your blood or your first transformation that is. And whilst it isn’t hereditary, male werewolves are able to produce offspring. When the child is born, they won’t have lycanthropy but they are likely to possess sensitive senses as well as the ability to sense when other lycanthropes are nearby, otherwise, they will have a regular life. It’s difficult for female werewolves to conceive, and if they do they are more than likely to suffer miscarriages and stillbirths, the birth of a healthy child is an estimate of a three percent chance. Though it is speculated that a mated male and female are able to produce healthy offspring, due to the magic binding them, but it has never been confirmed as it’s a well-kept secret of their species. Now, does anyone know the second type of werewolves?” Hermione asked.

The students looked to each other with frowns on their faces.

“Muggles?”

She turned around, smiling at Dean for deducing the answer, and remembering the correct wizarding term for a non-magical, too.

“Thank you, Dean,” she said and he raised an eyebrow at her pleased and proud expression before she turned back to the students. “The second type of werewolf is those that are muggles. Muggle werewolves differ from wizarding in several ways. Can anyone take a guess why?”

She pointed to a Ravenclaw boy with his hand raised.

“They don’t possess magic,” he answered, she nodded.

“Yes, they don’t possess magic, and since muggles aren’t aware of the existence of werewolves, they are unaware of what they are. They will suffer with blackouts and time lapses during the night of the full moon, they’ll wake up in strange places and not know how or why they are there. They are completely in the dark. Whilst they will possess lupine traits, such as the strength, speed and advanced senses, they will barely notice the changes to their bodies as they are nowhere near the strength of a magical werewolf, as the magic in our blood helps to strengthen the lupine traits. During the night of the full moon, they’re still difficult to defend against, but they aren’t as strong as magical werewolves. Magic will be effective against them but you would have to choose your spells carefully. Now, whereas werewolves in the Wizarding World often keep themselves away from the public and in seclusion during the night of the full moon, muggle werewolves don’t. Magical werewolves kill for survival, and again, muggle werewolves kill because the lycanthropy pushes them to. They kill and eat the hearts of their victims.” She saw the disgusted looks on their faces.

“So, from your DADA and COMC lessons, you should all be aware of what to do when faced with a werewolf, but can anyone hazard a guess as to how you defend against a muggle werewolf?” They looked to each other with frowns. “Are there any muggle raised students in here that may have heard of something from movies or books?”

“Silver?” Someone piped up.

“Yes, usually a silver knife to the heart or a silver bullet from a muggle gun to the head. There are no other known weaknesses, and with that, we have now come to an end. Thank you all for your questions and for taking this seriously. If you would please make your way out of the room, I believe dinner will be served shortly.”

She turned around as the students began to file out, and before she could speak to Dean or Sam, they cleared their throats and gestured behind her. She turned around to see several students stood, looking at her expectantly.

“You want autographs, don’t you?”

They nodded like bobble-head dolls and she chuckled, before quickly signing the parchment that was passed her way. When the students left, several more stepped into the room.

“You wanted to know what my response would be before asking, didn’t you?” She said knowingly and they all nodded. She chuckled once more, before signing the parchment and then they left the room, leaving them alone.

“So, how did you find the lecture?” She asked them both.

“Amazing!” Sam exclaimed and Hermione watched him amused as he rattled off about what he found interesting and what he was surprised to learn, whilst Dean rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe there’s more than one type of werewolf, and there’s a spell to turn someone into a human glacier. And...”

“We get it, you think it’s great,” Dean interrupted. Sam scowled at him and stopped talking.

“Well, I’m glad you learned something new,” she said.

“You’re a good teacher, you know?” Dean commented. She blinked in surprise. “I didn’t understand why the students at that school in Columbus spoke so highly of you as a teacher, but after seeing you today, I do.”

“Thank you. Minerva’s been trying to get me to teach here for years, and I don’t doubt she’ll bring it up again before we leave.”

“Do you want to teach here?” He asked her, watching her carefully.

Sam seeming to sense that it was going to be serious conversation, decided to give them some privacy, so he stood and walked up the stairs and he stepped into the office, leaving them alone in the classroom.

She looked around the room with a fond smile on her face.

“This is where I grew up, I learned invaluable life lessons and incredible forms of magic in this castle, and it was thanks to the professors for allowing me every opportunity to grow and develop my magic and I am forever grateful to them for putting up with my swottish tendencies. I’ve always wanted to do the same, to teach young students all the things that I learned, to share my experiences and knowledge to better their education and prepare them for life outside the castle walls. Hogwarts will always have a special place in my heart and I will always cherish my memories, both the good and the bad. I had hoped to one day take up a position as a professor here, but I hadn’t planned to do so until after I had retired from The Ministry. As you know, wizarding folk can live double what muggles do, so I have more time in my career.”

“And now? Do you still want to teach here?”

She sighed. “Dean, a part of me will always want to return to the castle, and I intended on doing so in a few decades or so, but then I met you, and my priorities have since changed.” He kept his eyes locked with hers. “You are my number one priority now, your safety and your happiness. You are what matters most to me, and I don’t want to do anything that will jeopardize our marriage or our trying for a baby. I won’t pull you away from what you’re comfortable with and I won’t force you out of your hunting, simply because I wouldn’t mind teaching a few teenage wizarding folk. To do that I would have to move back to England and I would spend the majority of my time, here, at the castle. I would never ask you to move with me and neither of us can take the separation. You are what matters most. I may have liked to teach, but it won’t kill me in not doing so. It would kill me if I lost you, or if you resented me for taking you away from where you are needed or where you wanted to be.”

He stood up from his chair and walked around the desk, stopping in front of her. He held her gaze, his eyes shining with love and adoration as he reached up and took her face in-between his hands, lowering his head slightly.

“I could never resent you, and you aren’t going to lose me.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said softly, bringing her hands up to grip at his.

“You’re not going to lose me if I can help it,” he amended. “I want you to be happy, and if that means I have to give up hunting so you can teach the next generation of witches and wizards to be as kind and compassionate as you, then I will.”

“All I need to be happy is you, no matter my job or where I am in the world. You are all I need and all I want in life.”

“I’m putting a baby in you.”

Her mouth turned up at the corners. “I know, it’ll happen when it’s meant to, at the very least we have some time together before our nights get interrupted by a crying baby.” He chuckled at her. “Don’t think you’re getting out of nappy duty,” she told him.

He snorted. “Diaper.”

“Ah, you’re in Britain now, it’s a nappy, and I swear to Merlin, if you ever call a dummy a pacifier in front of me, you’re getting hexed.”

He chuckled. “Well, like you said, we’ve still got time.”

He leaned down and kissed her softly, before gripping her by the hips and lifting her onto the desk. He looked down at her with a lustful, mischievous sparkle to his eyes and she raised an eyebrow in response as he stepped between her parted legs.

“You said you’d owe me one if I behaved during the interview, and I think I did.”

“Yes, you were very well behaved for your standards,” she agreed and his lip twitched. “Your point being?”

"I’m calling that in now.”

“Oh, and what is it you want?”

His eyes grew darker and she knew his answer would amuse her, and she was right.

His eyes swept over her frame. “Do you happen to have your old school uniform?”

Hermione burst out laughing, but his tightening grip on her hips sobered her up, when he pulled her forward into him she could feel the hard member restrained by his clothing. Seriously, just thinking about it brought that reaction from him?

Hermione pushed him away from her and hopped off the desk, before pulling her wand. She quickly transfigured her blouse into a white oxford shirt, her jeans into a grey pleated skirt and she altered her robes to that of Gryffindors, before summoning a red and gold striped tie. Admittedly, she did make the clothing a little tighter and shorter than she would’ve dared to wear in school, but the look on Dean’s face was worth it.

“This uniform?” She asked innocently.

His dark eyes roamed the length off her body, before he pounced, pulling her against him and crashing his mouth to hers as his hands where everywhere on her. When she was breathless she pushed him away from her and he looked far from pleased.

She bit her lip, before writing a quick note to Sam, telling him not to leave the classroom and they would be back shortly. She didn’t say where they were going or what they were doing, he would likely know having been dealing with their relationship for some time now and being more than used to it. She then took Dean’s hand and dragged him out of the classroom, making sure the corridors were empty before pulling him into the first broom cupboard she could find, and before she knew it, she was hiked up against him and pinned to the wall.

Her laughter was muffled by his mouth claiming hers.

~000~000~000~

After Dean and Hermione returned to the classroom to see Sam watching them knowingly, Hermione continued with the brief tour of the castle, making sure to stop at the library, of which Sam had been completely taken with and Dean had exclaimed, “Awesome, we’re in nerd heaven,” until Hermione slapped up the side of his head.

When they were finally able to pry Sam away from the library, they headed back to McGonagall’s office to say their goodbyes, and like Hermione had predicted, she did try to convince her to become a professor at the castle. Hermione politely declined, before hugging the headmistress and then they left for home.

It was late when they returned, so they ate the food that was waiting for them –much to Hermione’s annoyance- before they turned in for the night, and it was in the middle of the night when Dean woke up.

He looked around the dark room with sleepy eyes, seeing that Hermione was nowhere to be seen and her side of the bed was cold, meaning she’d been gone for some time. One of the floating candles past overhead and when it did, his eyes landed on the bloodstain on the bedsheets and panic filled him.

Blood?

She was hurt?

How? When? Who?

He bolted out of bed and that’s when his hearing picked up on the sound of running water. He quickly made his way to the bathroom, where he found Hermione sat on the floor of the shower with the water beating down on her. She had her legs drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped her knees, her head was buried in her arms and he could hear sobs leaving her.

Without care for still being partially clothed in his underwear, he stepped into the shower and positioned himself behind her, so that she sat between his legs and she reclined against him.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? I saw blood on the sheets,” he asked, trying to remain calm as he wrapped her up in his arms.

She shook her head and appeared to be getting her emotions under control. 

“I got my period,” she hiccupped.

He hadn’t been expecting that, but it would explain the blood on the sheets if she got it during the night. But then it occurred to him, if she’d gotten her period, then she wasn’t pregnant and disappointment filled him. He pushed it aside as he needed to focus on her, and he placed a gentle kiss to her shoulder.

“You’re not pregnant,” he muttered.

She shook her head. “No, I cast the Pregnancy Charm a couple of days ago and it was negative.”

“I know you’re upset and disappointed, but we knew it could take time,” he said softly.

“I’m not upset.”

“Then why are you sobbing in the shower?”

She turned around in his arms to face him, her large chocolate orbs locking onto his green ones. “Dean, I haven’t had my period since I was eighteen. This is my first in eight years.” He frowned. “Don’t you see? It means I can have children. My reproductive organs are functioning as they should be.”

His face softened. She’d heard from Castiel that she was fertile, but she needed proof and went to see a doctor. She believed it, but he supposed it was a surprise for her to actually see that she was physically fertile, particularly if she hadn’t had a period in almost a decade. He could understand why that would overwhelm her.

“I don’t care if Lucifer himself escapes from the cage and tries to stop us, we’re having a baby.”

She sighed, wiping away her tears, before chuckling at him. “I love pie.”

“I love pie, too,” he muttered, placing a kiss to her forehead and allowing her to lean against him as the hot water continued to fall over them.


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count:7

“So, was it as terrifying as you thought it’d be?” Hermione asked Dean as they walked down Diagon Alley hand in hand.

They were returning to America the next day and their respite from cases would be over and they would be back on the hunt, travelling around the US, dealing with God knows what, whilst trying to remain unharmed.

Since it was their last day in England and Hermione had finished her responsibilities at The Ministry, she had visited The Potters and Malfoys, and each one of The Weasley families, to give her nieces and nephews their presents and to introduce the children to their new family members.

Sam had taken to the children like a duck to water, whilst Dean had a little trouble finding his footing, but before she knew it, he had the children giggling like schoolgirls and refusing to allow him to rest, since they wanted to show him _every_ toy they owned, much to Hermione’s amusement. She knew he would be a good father, whether he believed it or not, and despite his worries and protests, the children loved him and he was rather good with them.

After finishing off their visitations at Malfoy Manor –much to Dean’s and Sam’s shock- Hermione had taken Sam back to the apartment, whilst she and Dean went for a walk in Diagon Alley, to see the nightlife now that all the stores had closed and all that was left open were the pubs, bars and clubs.

“I’d still rather be outnumbered in a nest of vampires, but it wasn’t that bad, I suppose.” He said, she snorted at him and nudged him with her elbow.

“Don’t lie, I saw the look on your face when you met Lily.” He scowled at her as she chuckled knowingly. “Ready for your pop quiz?”

Hermione had come up with the idea of a game to help Dean learn and remember the members of her family. Since they were now married, he would be expected to attend most of the functions she did, as per wizarding tradition, and since the _Prophet_ had put out the assumption that Dean was a wizard, they weren’t going to correct them, not when it gave them a cover for Dean’s hunting.

“No,” he frowned.

“Great, first of all, The Potters?”

He sighed, before doing his best to concentrate whilst his eyes scanned their surroundings as the nightlife of Diagon Alley came alive.

“Harry and Ginny. Harry is the Head Auror, and Ginny is a Professional Athlete, but she’s currently on maternity leave. They’ve been married seven years and have three children. Albus Severus is five, James Sirius is three and Lily Luna is one and a half.”

She nodded with a smile. “The Malfoys?”

He sighed. “Draco and Luna. Draco is the Deputy for your department, and Luna owns a newspaper. They’ve been married for four years and they have Scorpius, who’s almost a month old.”

She nodded again. “Now for the hard one, The Weasleys?”

He made a sound of annoyance, running his free hand through his hair, before sighing. “Bill and Fleur, they’re both curse breakers. They’ve been married almost ten years and they have three kids. Victorie is seven, Dominque is five and Lucas is three. Charlie’s a dragon tamer in Romania and he’s dating a healer called Claire. Percy and Audrey, Percy’s the Undersecretary to the Minister, and Audrey works in the Family Affairs Department. They’ve been married five years and they have two daughters. Lucy is four and Molly is two.” Hermione’s smile was widening by the minute. “George and Angelina, George has his own growing chain of stores and Angelina’s works for The Ministry in the Sports Department. They’ve been married five years and they have two children. Fred’s four and Roxy’s just turned one. That just leaves your asshole ex, Ron, who has two kids.”

She beamed at him, jumping up to kiss his cheek as they continued to walk down the cobblestone path. “Yes, Hugo and Rose,” she confirmed. “Hugo’s almost eight and Rose is almost five. They have different mothers, and we haven’t introduced you to them because the mothers hate all of us, we only get to see them when Ron brings them around, he usually has them at the weekends,” she shrugged. “Congratulations, you passed the quiz.”

“So, do I get a prize?” He asked, looking down at her with suggestive eyes, his eyes sweeping her figure.

“No, no sex for at least another four days.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged.

She grimaced. “That’s disgusting. I fell icky and gross and the last thing I want is to fall under your charm. So I’ll buy you a drink; let’s go to the Leaky Cauldron.”

~000~000~000~

“Your people know how to party!” Dean commented as they both stepped out of the second club of the night.

After a few drinks in The Leaky Cauldron, they visited several bars and two clubs, not caring that they were watched by the press and patrons in the building, being too busy laughing, drinking and dancing. They weren’t drunk yet, but they weren’t far off.

“I’m well aware, you have no idea how many functions I’ve been forced to attend and to be honest with you, I can’t remember most of them,” she replied, their arms wrapped around each other as they stumbled down the street.

He laughed loudly. “I would sell my soul to see the state you were in.”

She smacked him. “Don’t joke about that,” she said frowning.

He smiled charmingly; his eyes alight with mischief before her back collided with a wall she hadn’t seen. She gasped in surprise when Dean lowered his head and kissed her, slipping his tongue past her parted lips. He lifted her off the ground, pressing her into the wall with his body, as her legs wrapped around him, her hands gripped at his hair and his hands squeezed her clothing clad arse. He kissed her until she was breathless and she pushed him back from her with a scowl on her face.

“I said...”

“I know what you said, but that doesn’t mean I can’t kiss you.”

She sighed. “You’re a pain in the arse.”

His eyes lit up and a smirk appeared. “I can be if you want.”

She gasped loudly, her face flushed bright red and she smacked him on the arm.

“Dean Winchester!” She scolded, whilst he had burst out laughing at her obvious embarrassment. She scowled and crossed her arms in front of her. “If that’s what you’re into, then you married the wrong witch.”

His laughter broke off into chuckles and he shook his head, taking a breath to calm himself down. “No, there’s only one witch for me and I married her,” he replied, and her embarrassment faded into love.

“You’re a pain in the arse, but you’re _my_ pain in the arse,” she said, lifting her arms to wrap around his neck. “And I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiled at her softly, lowering his head and capturing her mouth in a kiss.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

~000~000~000~

Hermione froze; she knew that voice and she had prayed that she’d never hear it again. Dean pulled back from her, keeping his eyes on Hermione’s face as he watched her pale and fear, pain and uncertainty filled her eyes.

Dean reluctantly put her feet back on the ground and he stepped back, moving to stand beside her with his arm around her shoulders and he felt her burrowing against him.

He eyed the man in front of him, standing at five-foot-eleven with short, dirty blonde hair and dark blue eyes, he had pale skin and a cruel smirk on his lips as his eyes swept over Hermione leeringly, then over to him looking him up and down for a moment before he turned back to Hermione. Dean’s hold on her tightened and he narrowed his eyes dangerously.

“Long time no see, Granger,” the man smirked.

Dean felt Hermione shaking against him, setting his instincts on fire. Something was wrong.

“You’ve changed,” he said. “And I see you’ve downgraded,” he spoke, turning his eyes to Dean, who narrowed his eyes into slits, his free hand moving behind his back and hovering over the gun in the waistband of his jeans.

Hermione took a deep breath, visibly collecting her thoughts. “No, I haven’t downgraded,” Hermione said, “I seem to have upgraded to a far superior model.”

The man laughed cruelly. “Like you could ever find someone better than me.”

Hermione flinched and Dean’s hand closed around the gun, ready to shoot the bastard in front of him.

“I did and I have and I married him. Fuck off back to hell, I hear it’s lovely this time of year,” she commented lightly.

Dean blinked in surprise when the man was suddenly pinned to the wall opposite them, his wand on the ground and a look of anger on his face, his mouth moving but no sound leaving his lips. Hermione stepped out of Dean’s hold and moved to stand in front of the man.

She didn’t know where the newfound bravery came from, maybe it was because she was a Gryffindor, maybe it was from being in Dean’s presence, maybe it was because she knew Dean wouldn’t let anything harm her, but whatever the reason, she was grateful as she was finally able to express her true feelings.

“You’re a piece of shite and you always were. I was just too stupid to see that, I ignored everyone’s warnings because I believed you were different. I believed myself to be in love with you, but I’ve come to realise that I never was. I’ve come to know what it feels like to truly love someone and it’s all because of the man you believe to be inferior to you. Well listen here, you prick, you are inferior to him in every way possible. In kindness, in strength, in bravery, in humour and most certainly in the bedroom.”

Dean’s mouth twitched into a proud and smug smile.

“You don’t compare to him, you’re not even on the same spectrum, so fuck off and leave me the hell alone.” She stepped back from him and walked back over to Dean, lifting her wand to release the charms on him. “I hope to never see you again, Ryan.”

Dean stiffened beside her and that’s when she realised her mistake. She had revealed his identity, which put him in more danger than Ron had ever been in. She was half-convinced Dean would actually kill Ryan since discovering he had put her in the hospital.

“Ryan?” He questioned, his teeth gritted and his free hand clenched, whilst his grip tightened on his gun. “As in the fucking bastard that put you in the hospital? That Ryan?”

She looked down at the ground, knowing she couldn’t lie to him, and he took that action as his answer.

“Release him and give me five minutes alone with him,” he said, his eyes glittering dangerously.

“No,” she said quietly. “I can cover up a muggle being killed, but not a magical.”

“If you don’t give me five minutes alone with him, then I _will_ kill him,” he promised.

She looked up at him and the fury on his handsome face scared her a little, even though she knew it wasn’t aimed at her. Her eyes flittered between her husband and her ex-boyfriend before she sighed. She knew there was only one available option.

She held her hand out and he stared at it. “Give me your gun.” He made to speak but she cut in. “Give me your gun,” she repeated, this time it was a demand.

He gritted his teeth but pulled his gun from his waistband and handed it to her.

“And your back up.”

He reluctantly pulled his backup gun from beneath his trouser leg and gave it to her.

“And your knife.”

He didn’t look pleased, but he pulled the silver knife out of his sleeve and handed it to her.

“And your pocket knife.”

He sighed, before pulling that from his jacket pocket and handing it to her. How did she know about that one?

“Thank you; now give me your jacket.”

“Why?” He growled, his hands clenched by his sides, his eyes glued to the wriggling figure trying to break free from Hermione’s magic, and his eyes promised pain and suffering.

“For one, I don’t want you to get blood on it, it’s a pain in the arse to wash out and I know you’re fond of your leather jacket. And two, I’m cold.”

His eyes flickered back to her, they softened slightly as he removed his jacket and he handed it to her. She put his weapons into her beaded bag and then slipped on the jacket, noticing his eyes darken but for an entirely different reason.

Dean stepped forward, moving closer to her panicking ex-boyfriend. He didn’t know what Dean was capable of but he’d seen the weapons Hermione had confiscated from Dean, which gave him a slight idea to what he was in for.

“Dean?”

He turned his head to look back at her, seeing her hand held out expectantly.

“Give me the pocket knife you’re concealing in your back left jean pocket.”

Dean grumbled under his breath whilst removing the pocket knife and throwing to Hermione. She caught it and put in her beaded bag with the others. Hermione lifted her wand and cancelled the charms. Dean quickly stepped into action, grabbing Ryan by the collar of his shirt, and he pulled him into the alleyway so passersby wouldn’t witness his fury, but he didn’t want Hermione to see either. He didn’t want to scare her with what he’d learned from his time in hell.

Ryan was defenceless, his wand still lay on the ground and without it, Dean had the advantage as the majority of wizards weren’t able to defend themselves with physical violence, not like Dean could anyway.

Hermione bit her lip and lowered her head as she watched Dean drag Ryan into the alleyway before she threw up a _Silencio_ to prevent people from coming to investigate. She picked up Ryan’s fallen wand and began pacing.

~000~000~000~

It was the longest five minutes of her life. It felt like hours had passed by when realistically she knew it was minutes. She just hoped Dean didn’t kill him. She couldn’t cover that up; she couldn’t protect him if that happened. She couldn’t lose him.

Her eyes snapped to the alleyway entrance when she saw the shadow on the ground thanks to the lanterns lighting up the pathway in the darkness of the night.

Dean stepped out of the alleyway and Hermione’s eyes locked on to him as he approached her, and her eyes widened in horror.

He had a gash on his right eyebrow that was slowly trickling blood down the side of his face, there was a cut in his lip and it was clear to her that his right cheekbone was beginning to swell. The knuckles of his right hand had split open and it wasn’t difficult to imagine what had happened.

A gasp fell from her lips unbidden at seeing his once white t-shirt covered in blood stains and splotches, along with his jeans, and bloody hell, he even had blood splotches on his fucking boots!

He stopped in front of her and he lifted his left hand to her cheek to wipe away the tears that had leaked out of her eyes.

“I’m fine, I can’t say the same for that fucker,” he muttered lowly.

Her eyes moved from his blood-soaked t-shirt to his eyes, seeing the protectiveness and love swimming through his beautiful green orbs.

“I’ve made sure he won’t ever think about hurting you or anyone else again.”

She blinked, before pulling herself together. She had to get them out of there before someone came upon them and saw the state of Dean and put the pieces together. She made to step around him, but he stopped her by taking her wrist in his uninjured hand.

“Don’t,” he said softly.

“I need to wipe his memories so he won’t remember who did this to him. We’re married now, wizard or muggle, you’ll be sentenced to Azkaban.”

“You don’t need to see what I did to him, and he’s not going to tell anyone anything. I made sure of it.”

“He’s still alive?” She asked quietly, looking down at the ground.

“Unfortunately, he’s just unconscious, someone will find him and it won’t be a nice sight for the person that does.”

“I have to get you out of here. We can’t floo with you looking like that. We can’t walk for the same reason. The Knight Bus would take too long. I’ll have to apparate, but I’ve been drinking so it’s incredibly dangerous. I need to heal your injuries but I can’t take you to the hospital, so we’ll have to do it at the apartment.”

He took her hand in his. “Let’s go home.”

Hermione’s insides fluttered at his words before she took a deep breath and she apparated them back to the apartment, praying that her fuzzy brain would remain focused so they could get there uninjured.


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 5

They landed in the centre of the living room.

“What the fuck happened!”

Hermione looked around, seeing Sam sat on the couch, his book haven fallen to the ground in his surprise, but she was surprised to see Harry sat in the armchair as she hadn’t known he was coming over. They were staring wide-eyed at Dean, taking in his injuries and his ruffled, injured and bloodied appearance.

Hermione ignored them both, pulling Dean to sit on the couch whilst she kneeled in front of him, muttering under her breath with her wand gently pressed to his bruising cheek before she summoned several potions, which she had Dean drink or she placed on his wounds.

Sam watched in wonder as Dean’s knuckles knitted back together and new skin grew over it, as the cut on his lip sealed up and the cut on his eyebrow healed before she lathered the thick green Bruise Removal Paste on his cheek. During the healing, Dean and Hermione barely took their eyes off each other, and Harry and Sam watched silently, knowing they weren’t going to get answers until Hermione had tended to Dean.

She banished the empty vials when finished and then stood up. Dean pulled her to sit across his lap and he buried his face against her neck and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“Now that the injuries have been dealt with, what the bloody hell happened!” Harry demanded, a look on his face daring them to argue with them.

“Ryan,” Hermione answered with one word, and that one word had Harry’s eyes widening before a look of a sick sense of glee and satisfaction took over his face. Sam looked at Harry in surprise to his reaction to Hermione’s one word explanation.

“You ran into him?” He questioned and she nodded.

He turned his eyes to Dean, locking gazes with him now that he’d taken his head away from Hermione’s neck.

“You teach him a lesson?”

“Yes,” he replied.

Harry looked at the blood on his shirt, jeans and shoes, a slow, scary smile creeping up onto his face.

“Is he alive?”

“Barely, the fucker didn’t know what hit him.”

“Shame you didn’t kill him,” Harry muttered.

“Harry James Potter!” Hermione shrieked, and all three men winced, but neither Dean nor Harry looked apologetic and it was clear that Sam was confused.

“I’m sorry, but why are we happy Dean almost killed a guy? And Ryan? Didn’t your family have a bad reaction when his name was brought up?”

“Ryan Newton is one of my ex-boyfriends,” Hermione sighed and Dean’s arms tightened around her as she looked over to Sam to see him frowning. “He was emotionally and mentally abusive, until he got drunk and became physically abusive. He pushed me down some stairs and put me in the hospital. He had a better lawyer and the charges were dropped.”

Sam looked furious and he turned his eyes to Dean. “Why didn’t you kill the bastard?”

“Promised Glinda I wouldn’t,” he muttered, sounding as though he wouldn’t mind in the least going back to finish him off. “She took both my guns, my knife and both pocket knives before giving me some time alone with him.”

“You know about the pocket knives?” Sam asked surprised.

She shrugged in response to his question. “I can’t cover up Dean killing a wizard.”

“You could if you had help,” Harry muttered and her eyes cut to him, widening at the look on his face. “You’ve got a Head Auror, a curse breaker, a dragon tamer, the Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, a genius entrepreneur and the head of the wealthiest family in Wizarding Europe that all have their own means to cover up a murder, and combined, no one would even know the arsehole was missing.”

Hermione stared at him, not knowing who the man in front of her was.

~000~000~000~

After saying his goodbyes since they were leaving for America in the morning, Harry left The Winchesters alone. Sam retired to bed, and Hermione dragged Dean to the bathroom, where they undressed, Dean’s clothes were thrown in the bin and Hermione made sure to wash all evidence of blood off him. They dried off and dressed before climbing into bed, snuggling down together.

“Are you disappointed in me?” Dean asked, his voice quiet and sleepy.

Hermione sighed, snuggling into him further. “No, I’m not disappointed, to be honest, I thought you’d kill him.”

“The thought crossed my mind,” he admitted. “But then he’d be dead and he wouldn’t remember what I did to him for daring to lay a finger on you. Past or not, he wasn’t getting away with it. One thing I’ve learned over the years is karma’s a bitch and your past always come back to bite you in the ass.”

She sighed again. “As I said, I’m not disappointed, and I’m glad we’re leaving back to America tomorrow. As nice as the time away has been, I want to get back to normal, and I miss the Impala.”

Dean made a sound of appreciation. “Witch, I really want to put a baby in you,” he groaned.

She chuckled. “Not for four more days.”

~000~000~000~

“You get it,” Dean muttered as the banging on the front door grew louder the longer they ignored it.

“No, you get it,” she grumbled, snuggling into her pillow and further under the blanket.

“It’s your apartment.”

“It’s our apartment,” she corrected, but she reluctantly climbed out of bed, summoning her red silk robe and slipped it on over her t-shirt and shorts. “Just so you’re aware, whoever this is on the other side of the door is going to get an eyeful of me being half-naked,” she said amused, as she made her way out of the bedroom.

“Over my dead body!” Dean growled and she laughed loudly.

She opened the door and her laughter stopped.

“Kings,” she frowned. “What are you doing here?” She asked confused; he’d never made a house call before.

“I think you know why I’m here, Hermione,” he replied, a knowing look in his eyes.

Hermione felt dread fill her and she nodded, before opening the door wider and gesturing for him to enter her apartment.

“Dean, get dressed, we have a problem!” She called, as she stopped in the kitchen to fetch the fixings for a cup of tea.

“What is it, Glinda!” He replied.

“Just get out here!”

As she sat herself down on the couch and Kingsley sat on the armchair, both Dean and Sam entered the living room and they both looked to have thrown on the first items of clothing they had found. They stumbled in their steps when they saw Kingsley.

“Dean, Sam, you remember Minister Shacklebolt,” she said. 

They both nodded, taking a seat on either side of her, and Kingsley seemed to be watching Dean as he sat down, putting his arm on the back of the couch behind Hermione.

“What’s going on, Glinda?” Dean asked.

“He knows,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair, making it frizzier than normal and Dean’s mouth twitched in amusement at the sight, before he frowned.

“He knows what?”

“He knows about last night.”

Dean stiffened.

“How?” He questioned, his eyes turning to Kingsley as he pulled Hermione to lean against him and tucking her into his side, almost protectively.

“He was found by a passerby and escorted to St. Mungo’s. He woke not long ago and luckily, the MLE Department has been short-staffed so Draco was asked to step in and take his statement. He came straight to my office.”

“So much for him keeping his mouth shut,” Hermione mumbled.

“He deserved it,” Dean said, not bothering to deny anything.

“I don’t doubt he did,” Kingsley said, and Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise. “The war may be over but the Order’s still a family, and we look out for each other. No one was happy with what Newton did to you, and they certainly weren’t pleased with the outcome of the charges being dropped.”

“Are you here to arrest Dean?” She asked quietly, her hand moving to rest against Dean’s thigh.

“No, we’re going to make sure nothing comes of this.”

“You can’t do that, Kings.”

“I’d like to see you stop me. Newton got away with it the first time, this is his punishment.”

“He’ll file a lawsuit, accuse The Ministry of being corrupt.”

“Between myself, Harry and Draco, we can and we will make this go away. I have no doubt your husband was defending you from a man that has previously caused you harm. Harry is going to stand as your alibi; you left the bar and returned home at ten-thirty, the assault is recorded as taking place half an hour later. No one will question Harry Potter. We will protect you.”

“We’re returning to America today.”

“That’s good, it’ll allow some time for all of this to blow over, we’ll try to keep it out of the _Prophet_ , but I doubt we’ll be successful, you know how their reporters work. You won’t receive _The Prophet_ in America so we’ll do our best to keep you informed and we’ll run interference until another story comes along and makes the headlines and this will all be forgotten about,” Kingsley said. “Now, I best be off, I have to get to the Ministry.”

He stood to leave and Hermione stood to show him out. Before they reached the door, Kingsley turned around and looked at Dean.

“I believe he got exactly what he deserved, you certainly did a number on him. The healers were surprised by the amount of damage done without the aid of magic. Where did you learn to inflict such harm?”

“Hell.”


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 5

“Why do you have that look on your face?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow as they all stepped out of the floo and into the Cambridge apartment.

Once Kingsley had left, the three Winchesters had left to ready for the coming day, once they had packed up their belongings and ate their lunch, they floo’d back to America.

“Why didn’t you tell me I missed your birthday?” She asked, turning to look at Sam.

“I’m sorry?” He questioned with a confused a frown.

“Your birthday, it’s May 2nd.”

“And?”

“And I missed your birthday, by almost two weeks. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“To be honest, I forgot,” he shrugged. “We don’t really celebrate birthdays and holidays. How did you even know?”

“I asked Bobby since I realised I didn’t know your birthdays. And as for this no celebrating birthdays or holidays, it no longer stands. We will be celebrating everything from now on, including Pancake Day.”

“What?” The brothers asked, looking confused.

“Pancake Day, an entire day dedicated to eating pancakes, and there is not a chance in hell I’m missing out on pancakes because you don’t celebrate holidays,” she crossed her arms with a scowl, and their mouths twitched in amusement. “I’m still mad at you for not telling me it was your birthday. You’re only twenty-five once, and so, I have a surprise for you.” Her scowl turned into a smile. “Actually, it’s for both of you.”

The brothers eyed each other as she grabbed them and dragged them down the corridor, stopping in front of one of the rooms they knew to be a bedroom.

“Open it,” she stepped back and grinned.

“Why? We’ve already seen it, it’s a bedroom decorated in black and white,” Sam said.

“Just open it,” her grin widened and she practically rocked on the balls of her feet. “Please, open it before I burst.”

They both looked at her strangely, before sharing a look and Dean stepped forward, opening the door and pushing it open until it hit the wall behind it and they stepped inside. Hermione followed them into the room, her eyes sweeping the room as she hadn’t seen the finished product, it had actually been a last-minute decision before they left Bobby’s the night before they left to England. She wasn’t disappointed with the results.

The large room that had once been a bedroom was now even larger, thanks to the magical contractors she’d called in when they were in England. It was no longer a bedroom, but a library and armoury.

The black and white colour scheme had been changed to pale green and brown, with the walls being pale green, with brown, white and silver accents and the furniture in the room being a dark brown. There were no windows in the room and large bookcases lined three of the walls and they were filled beyond capacity with the help of magic, allowing them to hold more than should’ve been possible and each book was relevant to their hunting.

There was a large wooden table in the room with four chairs surrounding it, a couch and matching armchair sat in the centre of the room with a coffee table in the centre of them. A door sat on the wall behind the entrance door and it led to a storage room filled with salt and pre-drawn demon traps, which Hermione could easily place in their motel rooms or when they set traps, saving them time demon proofing their rooms.

“What is this?” Sam questioned, his eyes sweeping the bookcases.

She grinned. “This is your Hunter’s Library.” They blinked at her. “This is our home base, at least temporarily,” she said, and whilst Dean stared at her, Sam looked confused by her words, seeing as he didn’t know about Hermione’s and Dean’s plans to have a house built.

”Originally I thought about merging my magical library with this one, but that would be potentially problematic, seeing as some of my texts can be deadly and I can’t risk either of you getting injured from something as simple as getting too close to a book,” she explained, whilst Dean’s eyes searched the room and Sam perused the bookcases.

“These titles, I know for a fact there’s only one copy left in existence and Bobby has them in his study,” Sam frowned, pulling his wide eyes away from the bookcases and to her, and Dean’s eyes snapped to her too.

“I know, they aren’t the originals but they are copies, everything that you would find in Bobby’s study you can now find in here, they’re identical.”

“How is that possible?” He asked awed, his fingers running over the spines.

“Magic,” she shrugged. “Bobby gave permission for all of his resources to be copied. Whilst we were away, I had Jinx and Val go to Bobby’s to do just that, they also helped him to re-organise his study since they were horrified by the mess they found it in,” she chuckled. “Now, if Bobby’s unavailable and he has the only book you may need, we now have a copy here, allowing for more than one person to research at the same time.”

“But what good is that if we’re out of State?” Sam asked, still amazed by what Hermione had done.

“Easy, now that we’re back I can link the bookcases to my beaded bag, so that if and when a book is needed and we aren’t here or nearby, we can pull that book off the bookcase and out of my beaded bag, so you have it in person. We literally have the library wherever we go. Now, scrolls, manuscripts and the like can be found in the store cupboard, and they’re protected with magic, as are all the books, just in case there is ever a break-in. Which is highly unlikely due to my security wards, as well as the wards and sigils Castiel put around the building. Only a Winchester is able to remove a text from the bookcases.” They stared, open-mouthed and she giggled. Dean’s features softened at her referring to herself as one of them.

“Now,” she turned away from Sam and to Dean and he raised an eyebrow at her. “I know reading isn’t your forte, the library is my gift to Sam, for you, I have something else,” she grinned, before taking his hand and leading him over to the empty back wall, and stopping just where the corners of the walls met.

“I don’t get it,” Dean commented.

She beamed, before lifting his hand and pressing it palm flat against the wall. A control panel appeared beneath his hand and it flashed blue before a strange scraping sound was heard, and before his eyes, the wall disappeared, revealing shelves upon shelves filled with every weapon he could possibly need and want. 

“Shit,” he whispered quietly, taken aback by the fully-stocked armoury in front of him.

“I installed an armoury for you,” she beamed, almost rocking in excitement. “Knives, athames, daggers, machetes, handguns, bars of iron. And they’re all made of different metals: iron, gold, silver, copper and brass. Bobby’s working on getting us some weapons that have been blessed so we’re truly equipped for whatever we come across, now we’re all at less risk of being taken off guard and not having the equipment we need. He also said something about Palo Santo, whatever that is.”

“A weapon made of Palo Santo has similar effects to salt and holy water on demons.”

“Oh, cool,” shrugged. “See, you learn something every day. There’s extra ammunition in the store cupboard along with the scrolls, and you’ll also find bags of salt and pre-drawn demon traps, courtesy of Bobby, so now you won’t be vandalising every motel we stay in. I didn’t bother with substances such as rosemary and the like, since I have it all in my potions lab, and things such as fire and sunlight I can easily mimic with my wand.”

They both stared at her completely speechless.

“And I have one final surprise for the both of you.” She clicked her fingers and two ID’s appeared, she handed one to them both. “No more mishaps with the collection of fake ID’S you have. You now have one like mine, in which the person will see whatever identity you want them to,” she grinned. “Now we’re all safer in our way of life as we’re better prepared. And now, I must speak with the house-elves regarding a few matters, since I’ve been gone. I’ll leave you two alone to explore your new Hunter’s HQ,” she said amused.

She turned and made to leave the room, but Dean took her wrist before she reached the door. He spun her around to face him and his mouth crashed down onto hers, kissing her until she was breathless and she was pulled flush against him, feeling the hard planes of his figure, and the bulge in his jeans.

She gasped when she pulled back from him, his eyes dark and lustful, and he brought his lips to her ear, whispering sinful words that had her biting her lip and gripping the arms of his jacket. She turned her eyes to Sam, seeing him completely oblivious to his surroundings with his head buried in a book.

She took a deep, calming breath.

“Not for a few more days yet,” she breathed out.

He growled against her ear and placed a kiss to the weak spot behind her ear. She gasped, before reluctantly pulling back from him and leaving out the door, completely aware of his gaze burning into her back as he watched her leave.

~000~000~000~

“Where’s Baby?” Dean asked.

He entered the kitchen to find Hermione dressed for bed and covertly making a sandwich before Mimsy could turn up and scold her. They had several cases that Bobby wanted them to check out and they would be leaving in the morning, to begin with the first.

“In the building’s parking garage, and I promise, she’s been treated like royalty since being here. The house-elves want to impress you and they took very good care of her.”

“Why would they want to impress me?” He frowned, standing beside her and leaning back against the counter.

“You’re their new Master,” she shrugged. “They want to prove they’re worthy of being bound to you, just as they are to me. There’s nothing either of us can do about it, it’s their nature. I’ll take you down after I eat my sandwich, I’m starving.”

He snorted but didn’t bother commenting, knowing it would make her mad and she’d probably hex him in his sleep, or worse, make him sleep on the couch.

Hermione ate her sandwich faster than Dean believed possible before she led them to the elevator and pressed a series of buttons his eyes couldn’t keep up with. It was a short ride to the parking structure beneath the building, and when they stepped out of the elevator, his eyes took in his surroundings, seeing the large area but only a handful of cars.

“Wizarding folk don’t require the need for cars due to magical forms of travel. I have a few Muggleborn residents, and they use their cars only to visit their muggle relatives so they don’t get suspicious,” she explained, as she led them over to the Impala.

Dean’s eyes widened when he saw it; he’d never seen it look so clean and polished before. He could see his reflection perfectly in the shine of the black paint. He walked around the car, seeing that the wheels and windows had been cleaned and polished until they gleamed, too. He climbed into the car, immediately noticing that the odd smell that usually accompanied the car was now gone. It smelled clean, like lemons, and there was not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere to be seen. The faded leather of the seats looked to have been taken care of as well, seeing as it looked to be brand new.

“Surprised?” She asked amused, standing by the open driver’s side door. He nodded in silence, and she chuckled. “I told you they’d take good care of her, I think they spent more time on your car than they did Bobby’s study, and that’s saying something.”

He turned his eyes to her, still wide and awed.

“Come on, I have something I want to show you,” she gestured for him to get out of the car, and he followed her to the back of the car, standing by the trunk. “I know you already had a weapons case, but I had it upgraded.”

At her words he opened the trunk, then the weapons case and his eyes widened, seeing a smaller version of the armoury in the library.

“Even with magic, there’s only so much that can be contained in that case, but now we have everything we could possibly need with us, unfortunately, it isn’t linked to my beaded bag like the library is, for reasons I won’t bother going into, so when we need to restock we’ll have to return here,” she shrugged.

Before she could blink, she was crushed to his chest as he hugged her tightly, his head buried in her wild curls and his arms wrapped around her.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“You’re welcome, even though I have access to magical healing, I’ll do anything I can to minimise injury and making sure we are correctly equipped is only part of it.”

“Do I even want to know where you got all the weapons from?”

“Not really,”

He chuckled. “Well, if we weren’t feared before, we will be now.”

“The Witch and The Hunters. That certainly is a dynamic trio.”

“The Winchesters, the supernatural isn’t going to know what’s hit them.”


	67. Chapter 67

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 6

It had been a few days since they had left the Cambridge apartment and they started checking out the cases Bobby had been tracking for them since they’d been away. The first case hadn’t taken very long at all, in Dean’s words it had been a ‘simple salt and burn’ case, in which it took them longer to drive to their destination than it did to banish the spirit. They hadn’t even bothered booking into a motel for the night, simply leaving for their second case and they slept in the car overnight.

It had taken them a day and a half of travel to reach their destination of Lewistown, Pennsylvania, and their investigation did have a few strange elements to it, but it spanned nearly three nearby towns, as if the cause was moving from town to town. Whilst Sam was investigating, Dean and Hermione were on their way to Allentown -which was approximately three hours away- to investigate, so they when the returned to Sam in Lewistown, they could compare what they had found.

Dean and Hermione were halfway to their destination, with Dean driving and Hermione sat in the passenger’s side with her feet resting in his lap and her back pressed up against the door.

“Life is a highway, I wanna ride it all night long! If you’re going my way, I wanna drive it all night long!” They both sang loudly along to the radio, and if Sam had been there, he would be both complaining and laughing, but since he wasn’t, they sang as loudly and as badly as they wanted to.

Hermione laughed loudly, her head falling back against the window and Dean was laughing along with her, he reached over and turned down the radio so the music was no longer blaring and they could hear each other speaking.

Hermione’s smile was wide, her eyes sparkling and her skin lightly flushed, and she caught Dean watching her before he turned his eyes back on the road, then back to her.

“What?” She asked smiling.

“This is the life,” Dean commented.

“Hmm?” She hummed, shifting in her seat slightly to get more comfortable.

“I’ve got my beautiful wife, the Impala and the open road,” he gave her a charming smile.

“Do you want some crackers to go with that cheese?” Hermione teased.

He snorted at her. “How do you relate everything to food?”

“It’s my hidden talent,” she shrugged. “If Sam heard you say that, you’d never hear the end of it.”

“Which is why I said it now, and if you tell him, I’ll....” He frowned, trailing off.

“You’ll what?” She smirked.

“Then I’ll hide your banoffee muffins,” he said smugly.

Her smirk widened. “You play dirty, Winchester.”

“It’s a family trait,” he replied.

“But you are aware that I can summon them with magic? No matter where you hide them, they’ll find me.”

“I hate magic,” he muttered childishly.

“No you don’t, you think it’s awesome. Trueborn magic that is, not that cheap imitation Hell offers,” she said and he snorted at her.

She saw the lights of a flashing siren before she heard it.

“Dean, you’re going to have to pull over,” she muttered.

He lifted his eyes to the rearview mirror to see the police car following behind them. He sighed, before pulling over on the quiet road.

“You weren’t speeding, there’s nothing wrong with the car, why the hell have we been pulled?” She asked.

“I think I know,” he said, as he shut off the engine and gripped the steering wheel in his hands.

Hermione watched confused as Dean rolled down the window, and a police officer stopped by the car, resting his arm against the car roof and bending down to look in through the window.

The young officer looked to be around their age, maybe younger than her. He was boyish in his looks with ash blonde hair and blue eyes, tanned skin and freckles on his cheeks. She squinted her eyes, trying to see the name badge on his shirt uniform, _Mills._

The officer’s eyes took in Dean, before they flittered down, seeing Hermione’s legs resting on Dean’s lap. She was grateful she was wearing jeans as his eyes followed the rest of her body, lingering on her chest, then up to her face and his eyes widened.

She saw Dean’s grip on the steering wheel tighten, and he took a deep breath. He obviously wasn’t pleased with the officer’s wandering eyes.

“Can we help you, Officer?” Hermione asked.

The officer seemed taken aback by her accent. He blinked, before finally tearing his stare away from her.

“License and registration,” he said to Dean.

Dean turned his eyes to her, silently asking if the ID she had given him would work. She nodded and she reached into the glove compartment, pulling it out for him and then handing it to him. Dean handed it over to the officer and he looked at it, and then turned his eyes to Dean with a frown on his face, before he walked away and back to the police car.

Hermione and Dean looked to each other, Dean’s hand went to his gun on instinct and Hermione’s went to her wand in her boot.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Hermione said.

“You and me both, Sweetheart,” he replied, his eyes watching the officer from the rearview mirror.

“Why did he pull us over, you said you knew?” She asked, but she got her answer from the officer.

“Dean Winchester, step out of the car with your hands in the air!”

Hermione turned to look behind her, seeing the officer with his gun pointed and aimed at the car as he slowly approached them with a look of determination mixed with fear. She turned her eyes to Dean.

“That’s why,” he shrugged.

“Excuse me?”

“You see, Sammy and I are kind of wanted fugitives.” She stared at him. “In forty-five States, including this one.”

“Oh, honestly, there’s only fifty States as it is,” she grumbled. “What the hell for?”

“Murder, theft, fraud, arson, impersonating law enforcement and government officials, breaking and entering, escaping police custody, escaping from jail, kidnapping and abduction, assault, assault on an officer, trespassing and concealing and carrying deadly weapons.”

She blinked slowly, digesting everything he’d just revealed. “So everything but sex and drug crimes, lovely,” she said sarcastically.

“Step out of the car with your hands up, and release the hostage!” The officer yelled.

Hermione’s mouth dropped open and a look of anger crossed her face. Dean appeared to be amused by her reaction, not even bothering to look at the officer that was getting closer to the car with his gun trained on him.

“I am not now nor have I ever been a damsel in distress!” She said in outrage. “How dare he assume such a thing? What, because I’m a girl and I’m with you I must’ve been taken hostage? Did it ever occur to him that I’m your partner in crime?” She fumed.

Dean’s laughter filled the car. “You are my partner in crime,” he agreed.

“Well, this prat, is going to get a piece of my mind!”

Before Dean could stop her, she was stepping out of the car and rounding it, coming face to face with the officer.

“You’re safe now, Ma’am,” the officer said, reaching out to grab her wrist so he could pull her behind him and away from Dean, as he stepped out of the car with both hands held in the air.

“Excuse me?” She stepped back from him, glaring and taking the officer by surprise.

“Ma’am, I’m trying to rescue you, you must get behind me before you are hurt.”

“First of all, Officer Mills, I am not now nor have I ever been a damsel in distress. Second of all, how dare you assume such a thing? Third of all, Dean would never hurt me, not only is he aware of the consequences that should occur if he ever laid a finger on me, but... _Stupefy_ ,” she said, pulling her wand from her boot and the officer crumpled to the ground.

Dean stared at her in awe. She turned to him and held her hand out expectantly.

“I’m not giving you my weapons,” he said, lowering his hands and slipping them into his pockets.

She rolled her eyes. “I want your phone, Numpty,” she sighed.

“Why?” He asked, removing it from his pocket and handing it to her.

“I’m going to get us out of this bloody mess and ensure it never happens again.”

She pressed the correct numbers on the keypad, and she started pacing with the phone pressed to her ear, with Dean watching her curiously.

“Head Auror Hermione Winchester of The British Ministry of Magic, I need to speak with Minister Allister...I’m afraid it can’t wait, this is a matter of utmost importance and I don’t have a lot of time...Thank you.” She continued pacing and Dean’s eyes followed her movements. “I’m fine, Minister, thank you, yes, I’m enjoying married life,” she said, she pulled the phone back and covered the speaker. “It seems news of our marriage has spread across the pond,” she told Dean, before returning to the call. “Yes, I need your help. My husband and brother-in-law have had a few run-ins with the Muggle Law Enforcement, they’re currently wanted men in forty-five states, and we’ve been stopped by a muggle police officer, waving a muggle gun in our faces...Yes, that’s exactly what I need...Yes, everything...I need it done last Wednesday...Alright, let me know when I’ve got the all-clear and I’ll release the muggle officer from the bind...Thank you...” She hung up the phone and sighed.

“What did you just do?” He asked her curiously.

“Saved your arse. Honestly, I don’t know how you survived before meeting me,” she said.

He chuckled, walking over to her and he pushed her curls behind her ears and out of her face.

“That’s just it, Sweetheart,” he said, looking down at her. “I survived, but I didn’t live. Not until I met you.”

“You can be really sweet when you want to be,” she replied.

He gave her a charming smile, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into him. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course,” she nodded seriously, hooking her arms around his neck. “Only Sam.”

“Definitely not Sammy, he’d never let me live it down. And we can’t have people thinking I’ve gone soft, now can we?”

“I suppose not, it would be such a tragedy for the world to discover Dean Winchester was a big softie.”

“Exactly,” he nodded in agreement with a mock-serious frown on his face. “Then we’d have the supernatural believing they could take us on.”

She laughed at him. The phone in her hand made a sound and she pulled back from him, before reading the text message.

“That was fast, even by magical standards,” she commented, sounding pleasantly surprised.

“What was fast? What did you do?” He asked confused. She smirked in reply, before removing the officer from the bind, and quickly altering his memory.

He groaned as he came to before he quickly stood up and pointed his gun at Dean.

Hermione had a glare on her face and her hands on her hips with her foot tapping, something Dean knew signified her growing impatience.

“Firstly, I am not now nor have I ever been a damsel in distress. Secondly, how dare you assume such a thing? Thirdly, Dean would never hurt me, he knows the consequences should he ever lay a finger on me, and I’m his bloody wife,” she said, the officer’s eyes widened and his grip on the gun tightened. “And finally, why the bloody hell have you pulled us over? We weren’t speeding and there is nothing wrong with the car, it was serviced less than a week ago. And why are you currently pointing that bloody thing at my husband?” She demanded.

“He’s a wanted man in forty-five States; they’ve been trying to catch him for years.”

Hermione turned her head to look at Dean and he shrugged. She turned back to the officer.

“I think you’ve gotten confused, my husband is a perfectly law-abiding citizen.” She heard Dean snort and she had to restrain herself from going over to him and smacking him.

“I’ve called for backup and they’ll be here any minute,” he said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “No one’s coming because we’ve done nothing wrong. I suggest you speak with your dispatcher since you obviously have no idea what you’re doing. It’s not like we’re going anywhere, now is it?” She said, obviously annoyed.

The officer eyed her distrustfully, but he backed up to the police car and sat in the car with his gun still pointed at them.

“Are you going to tell me what you did?” Dean asked her.

“In a moment, once I’ve dealt with Officer Trigger Happy,” she replied, he snorted at her.

Moments later the officer stepped out of the car, with a confused look on his face and his gun still pointed at Dean.

“I don’t understand, I saw the notice board this morning,” he frowned.

“Yes, well, perhaps you read it wrong, we haven’t broken the law and my husband is a perfectly innocent man. Now I suggest you lower your weapon and allow us to continue on our journey, or I’ll file charges against you, Officer Mills.”

“Have a good day Ma’am,” he muttered as he lowered his gun, and before Hermione knew it, he had gotten back into the police car and he drove away, leaving them alone on the side of the quiet road.

She turned to face Dean, his eyes locked on her. “Neither you or Sam are wanted men.” He blinked. “Your criminal records have been wiped clean, both juvenile and adult, so we should never have this problem again.”

“You can do that?” He asked surprised.

“I have a remarkably high-security clearance, and The American Minister of Magic wasted no time in doing what I wished, since she knows I’m easier to deal with when I’m happy. Now you’re protected against the Muggle Authorities, just as I am, and since you now have me, I can easily cover up any mess you make, preventing the authorities from pointing their fingers at you, not that they know who you are now. You don’t even have a parking or speeding ticket. Like I told the officer, you’re a perfect law-abiding citizen.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve never been a perfect law-abiding citizen,” he chuckled, as he slowly approached her, his eyes lustful and dark.


	68. Chapter 68

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 6

She found herself being pushed up against the car and Dean’s mouth descended on hers, his arms wrapped around her tightly and she was hiked off the ground until her legs wrapped around him and he sat her on the hood of the car. His hands roamed her body, slipping under her t-shirt to tickle at her skin and massage her breasts over the fabric of her lace bra.

She moaned into his mouth and gripped at his hair, tugging until he groaned and bucked into her, the hardened length restrained in his jeans pressing against her clothed centre. She gasped, biting down on his lip, drawing blood and tearing a growl from deep within his chest that reverberated through her and sent shivers down her spine, and erecting goosebumps on her skin.

She pulled her mouth from his when the need for oxygen became too great, refusing to lose contact with her, his lips moved across her cheek, down her jaw until he reached her neck and he peppered her skin with nips and licks.

The need within him was getting too strong to handle, after not being with her for a week, he had been starting to feel withdrawals, and he honestly believed that just like when they were away from each other for long periods of time they became ill, the same would happen if they went just as long without sex.

He remembered Hermione’s words from the other day when he brought up the same topic.

_“We don’t have sex as often as we do because we’re a newly married couple that’s completely and utterly in love,” she rolled her eyes. “We do it because of our bond. When we’re away from each other, we become ill because we need the touch and the presence of the other. When we’re separated for more than a few hours, we feel the need to be in physical contact to recharge the bond between us, to keep it healthy and alive. It’s the same with sex, our for lack of a better term, sex addiction with each other, is a result of the bond. It recharges the bond, it connects us together, it allows us to understand each other, to strengthen our bond and it reminds our souls that we’re still together and that we’re healthy.”_

He was brought back to the present when Hermione’s hands slipped under his clothes and scraped at his scarred back – which had been blemish free until her met her, not that he complained. He pulled back from her, breathing heavily and staring at her with dark, lustful eyes. She had her eyes closed, her head tilted back slightly as the breeze blew her hair around her, and her mouth was parted slightly as she bit her lip. She was beautiful.

She opened her eyes and she gave a breathless moan upon seeing the look in his eyes.

“We can’t,” she said, shaking her head, but she didn’t push him away from her.

Dean’s mouth twitched, his hands moving to her hips, his fingers skimming her skin softly, slowly, sending shivers through her. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, she gripped at his shoulders, her nails biting into him and he chuckled huskily, his breathing tickling her.

They both knew she was feeling the withdrawal just as much as he had been, only she hid it a lot better than he did. But with her menstrual cycle finished for the month, her hormones going haywire at the sinful things he was whispering to her, and going a week without being intimate with Dean, it had finally gotten to her and it broke her down. She gave in.

“A car could come by any minute,” she said quietly.

“Then I guess we’ll have to be quick, won’t we?” He replied, kissing her weak spot behind her ear.

She gasped, her nails dug into him harder and when he pulled back to look at her, he saw her eyes changing until they were feline-like. He knew he had her at that point. He crashed his mouth back to hers, pulled her off the car and into him. She pulled back from him, intending to climb into the car, but he kept a hold of her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, his eyes dark and heated and his voice husky.

“In the car,” she replied confused.

He smirked at her, before pulling her close, spinning her around until her back was to him and he placed her hands against the hood of the car. He held her hips and stepped up against her, so she was forced to lean forward and hold her weight up on her hands. He nibbled at her shoulder and ground her arse against him.

“No,” he muttered. “I’ve had you in the car, now, I’m going to have you on it.”

“There is not a chance in...” She trailed off, a breathless moan leaving her as one of his hands moved from her hip and slipped down the front of her jeans and into her underwear, feeling her wetness as he slipped two fingers into her entrance and the palm of his hand rubbed against her nub with his movements.

“You were saying?” He breathed against her ear, placing kisses and nips to her skin.

“Fuck it,” she moaned, moving her hips against him, trying to find that spot that made her see stars.

He pulled his hand back and she groaned. Normally he would’ve made it his mission to tease her, to draw it out, to watch her come undone due to his actions, but he was impatient. He could feel the longing inside of him, he hadn’t been with her for a week and it was slowly driving him insane.

“Bend over a bit,” he instructed.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” she grumbled, but she complied, even as he pulled her hips out and unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. “I hate you,” she muttered.

He chuckled. “No, you don’t,” he said, as she heard him unzipping his own jeans.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I...” She trailed off with a gasp when both their underwear and jeans were pulled down far enough, and he pushed himself into her without warning. “Don’t, I don’t hate you,” she sighed, her hands clenching into fists as she supported herself on her hands, leaning over the hood of the car slightly.

He gripped her hips tightly in his hands as he breathed deeply, trying to gain control of himself.

“I’ve missed this,” he mumbled, placing kisses to her neck and shoulder.

“It’s only been a week.”

“Every minute I’m not inside you is torture.”

“You’re a perv,” she moaned, as he pulled back his hips and began moving inside of her, angling his hips so that he’d hit the spot inside of her he knew was her undoing.

“Only for you,” he grumbled.

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“As if I have eyes for anyone but you,” he chuckled. 

He snaked his hand around her stomach until he reached the apex of her thighs and he found her nub. Her back bowed, her head fell forward and her walls started fluttering, and he knew he had her. With one thrust he sent her over the edge and the purr that he hadn’t heard in what felt like years, rung in his ears.

He stilled, gritting his teeth and summoning every ounce of control so he wouldn’t follow her in finding relief. He was not finished with her yet. Their journey could wait, he couldn’t.

He made a noise of surprise when she pushed him away from her and turned to face him. Her feline eyes were shining brightly, her skin flushed pink and her chest rose and fell as she worked to get her breathing back under control. Before he could question her actions, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to the driver’s side door. She gestured for him to get in and he did so with a raised eyebrow, wondering what she was up to.

He got his answer when she rearranged her clothing so she could easily climb in after him, straddle his lap and she took him in her hand and sunk back down on to him. They both groaned and clung to each other. It was a tight fit, seeing as Hermione’s back was pressed against the steering wheel, and the steering wheel pushed her forward and into Dean, but neither of them complained, as she started moving over him, this time she was the one controlling the pace and movements.

“You know, I’m never going to be able to drive without thinking about this,” he said against her ear.

She squeezed his shoulders tightly, before releasing them and moving her hands to grip the back of the seat behind him, pulling herself further against him and changing the angle of her body slightly.

“Every time I get in the car, I’m going to get a hard-on and I’m not going to be able to think about anything else but you.”

She moaned. He gripped at her hips, pulling her down into his thrusts, and when a loud purr left her, her eyes locked onto his and her hands flew to his shoulders, her claws digging into his skin through the material of his shirt and leather jacket, he knew he couldn’t hold back this time and he spilled inside of her.

She slumped forward, and they held each other tightly as they gained control of their senses and breathing. Hermione leaned back from him and her heart fluttered when Dean’s hand slipped beneath her t-shirt and moved to rest against her stomach, just below her belly button and his eyes fell downcast.

“Not yet,” she said softly, running her hands through his hair and lightly scratching his scalp; she’d learned since being with him that it was a stress reliever for him, it calmed him.

“This could be the one,” he told her, he sounded hopeful.

“It’s not likely. I’m most fertile ten to twelve days before my period is due, and five days after. My cycle only ended last night, and seeing as it was my first cycle in eight years, it’ll take a few months for it to regulate and for me to know when I’m next due, so I can know if I’m late or not.”

“I don’t care how long it takes, I’m putting a baby in you if it’s the last thing I do.”

“It better not be,” she warned. “There’s not a chance in hell I’m raising our baby by myself. If it’s a boy that has your eyes, I’m screwed. If it’s a girl that has your smile, I’m screwed. If it’s both, I’m screwed. So basically, I’m screwed and if anything happens to you, I’m dragging you back to the land of the living so I can kill you myself.”

He chuckled, his eyes alight with mischief. “Well, I don’t mind screwing you.”

She rolled her eyes. “That is the worst one yet, and there’s been some corkers.”

She climbed off him and out of the car, righting her clothing and she picked up her wand that had fallen to the floor, casting Cleaning Charms over the both of them whilst Dean fastened himself up.

She walked around to the passenger’s side and climbed in the car, getting herself comfortable and finding herself in the same position before they had been pulled over. Hermione with her back pressed against the door and with her feet resting in Dean’s lap, only this time she took off her boots.

“Let’s go, we need to get to Allentown to investigate and then we need to get back to Sam before he starts thinking we’re holed up somewhere trying for a baby.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Dean commented.

“Drive,” Hermione pointed to the road.

Dean chuckled before turning on the ignition, just as a car drove past. They looked at each and burst out laughing.

“Well, that could’ve been awkward,” Hermione said through her laughter.

“Yeah, I’d hate to have to kill the man that saw you half-naked, especially since I no longer have a criminal record.”

“That’s not funny,” she rolled her eyes.

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

She eyed him. “And you say I’m possessive,” she muttered.

“You killed a lamia for kissing me,” he replied.

“Well, you killed a nest of vampires, and from what Sam told me, you were particularly vicious because their victims were similar to my appearance.”

“Well, you killed that succubus for coming onto me.”

“And you killed that demon for trying to get into my knickers.”

“Yeah, but you killed the siren for setting her sights on me.”

“And you broke a guy’s nose for squeezing my arse.”

“Yeah, but...”

Hermione sighed. “We’re both as bad as each other, let’s leave it at that. Now, drive, I’m hungry.”

“Why am I not surprised?” He grumbled, and she smacked him on the arm.

“Drive before I do, and I can’t guarantee Baby will survive the wreckage.”

“Nicely played, Mrs. Winchester,” he smirked.

“Don’t you forget, I know you better than you think, I know what leverage to use over you.”

“And that is?”

“Easy, Baby and sex.”

He snorted. “Like you could resist me,” he said smugly.

“I did for a week.”

“But it tortured you as much as it did me.” He laughed at her scowl, knowing he had her.

~000~000~000~

“He’ll be fine, Glinda,” Dean said, as they were five minutes out from the motel they were staying at. After visiting Allentown, they had now returned to Lewistown and were returning to the motel to compare their findings with Sam.

“He said he’d call. He hasn’t.”

“He likely got sidetracked,” Dean shrugged. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“He hasn’t answered any of our calls or texts either,” she ignored his previous words.

“He does that sometimes, particularly when he’s sleeping, he probably just fell asleep at his laptop, he does it all the time.”

“I’m worried about him,” she ignored him once again.

“He’s fine,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this; we should’ve never split up.”

“He can take care of himself,” Dean replied, and he thanked God when they pulled into a parking space outside their motel.

Before he could blink, Hermione was gone from beside him and out of the car, running to their motel room which they shared with Sam. She hadn’t even bothered to put her shoes back on, she just ran across the parking lot in her frilly pink ankle socks.

He rolled his eyes, grabbed her boots and followed after her at a regular pace. By the time he reached the room, Hermione was stood in the centre of it, her eyes wide, her wand in her hand and a panicked look on her face and Dean could see why.

He looked around the room, his eyes not missing the overturned furniture, the broken glass on the ground, nor Sam’s phone, knife and both guns. And there was an alarming amount of blood on the off-colour carpet. 


	69. Chapter 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands, only aware of Dean’s frantic pacing due to the shadows moving across the disgusting carpet. She’s been sat that way for almost half an hour. Dean had been pacing for longer.

Sam was gone. Someone, or worse, some _thing_ had taken him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know which. They weren’t even sure what they were dealing with, there was no pattern, there was no motive; everything appeared to be random. And whilst they had been searching for the one responsible, it seemed they’d found Sam first.

She knew they shouldn’t have split up, she’d had a bad feeling from the start but she’d just put it down to hormones and the like. She’d been all over the place the last few weeks. Discovering she was not only a human witch, but part Angel that was fated and married, and that she could also have children, it had been a lot to digest. And to be honest, she was still coming to terms with the Angel side, as well as the being perfectly fertile part of it, too.

Things had been going too well for Hermione and her new family, she should’ve known something was going to come along and rip it all apart, it always did.

Her hands moved into her hair, pulling tightly at her roots in frustration. She had to do something. They had to get Sam back before it was too late.

She lifted her eyes slightly, catching the large bloodstain on the carpet. It looked like a lot of blood; she only hoped it wasn’t enough to be fatal. She couldn’t let Sam die. She would save him. They would save him; they would kill the one responsible for hurting him and for the rest of the victims and families that had been destroyed. She would heal Sam and they would leave to continue with another case, whilst winding each other, laughing, joking, learning more about the other’s worlds, and with her and Dean continuing to try for a baby, of which Sam would roll his eyes and tease them for.

Yes, that was what was going to happen. There would be no other outcome. She wouldn’t allow there to be. With a new spark of determination, she stood up and gripped her wand tightly in her hand.

“Dean?” He continued pacing, back and forth, back and forth. “Dean?” She tried again. Back and forth, back and forth.

They would save Sam, but first, she had to save her husband from himself.

She walked over to him, deliberately stepping into his path. He didn’t notice and when he swivelled around to continue pacing, he walked straight into her, almost knocking her to the ground. On instinct he reached out to her, gripping her by the hips and pulling her into him.

He looked down at her blankly, as if not recognising her. She lifted her hand and pressed it to his cheek and she watched as his eyes fluttered closed before they opened again, and she had her Dean back. His beautiful green eyes stared at her with such intensity, she felt as though he were going to burn a hole straight through her.

“Sammy’s gone,” he muttered.

“He is,” she agreed softly.

“They’ve taken him.”

“They have.”

“He’s hurt.”

“More than likely,” she said quietly, her hand still pressed against his cheek.

“He’s dead?”

“No,” she said resolutely. “No, he’s not dead. He’s not allowed to die, I forbid it, and should he disobey orders, I’ll drag his arse from the grave and kill him myself.”

Much to her relief, a spark entered his eyes at her words.

“That would be a fate worse than death,” he muttered.

“It sure would, I have more hexes up my sleeve than you do weapons.”

He snorted at her, feeling the calm wash over him, making him wonder if she were using some kind of witchy magic over him, though he suspected it was most likely the bond they shared. Her presence and calmness helping to calm him, helping to focus his mind and get rid of the fuzziness that had taken up home in his head.

“We’re not sure what we’re dealing with yet. We don’t have any possible locations. We don’t know where he is. We don’t know how to find him.”

“Only three of those statements are true.” She lifted her wand, giving it a little shake in her hand and his eyes flew to it. “We do know how to find him. Remember, Dean, I have my ways of tracking you, that’s what I said to you the day I left for England, and I meant it. If it was required of me, I could track you. Though due to our circumstances, it’s far easier for me to track you and Sam than it would be a stranger.”

“How so?” He frowned.

“Three ways. The first being that I’m now bound to you and Sam through marriage, we share a bond and that can be used to track a person’s location. My bond to you is far stronger than Sam’s, so it’d be easier to track you than it would be him. Secondly, not only do you share blood with your brother, but there’s plenty of it on the ground which I can use to track his location. Though this would be blood magic and illegal, and if it was called for, I wouldn’t hesitate to break the law to find him, even if I risk being sent to Azkaban.” She felt his grip on her hips tighten and his eyes flashed protectively. “And this leads me to my final point, my magic.“ He frowned in confusion.

She removed her hand from his cheek and brought it down to his chest, opening a few more buttons on his shirt to reveal the runes tattooed opposite his anti-possession tattoo. She ran her fingertips over the runes lightly and he shivered under her touch, feeling something inside of him flare up, feeling himself being licked at by flames.

“I fed my magic into your runes, and I did the same for Sam. Not only did that activate the rune protection markings, but my magic is sealed within the ink now.”

“You can track us through our tattoos, by locking onto the signal of your magic held in the ink?” He questioned.

“Essentially, yes, I can. I can track my own magical signature. It’s going to be a pain in the arse since I haven’t fed any more of my magic into the runes for a while, so the signal will be weaker, plus I have to weed out the signatures that I’ll pick up from myself and you, but it’s possible. I can combine the blood on the carpet with my magical signature which will hopefully speed up the tracking process.”

“How long?”

She bit her lip in thought. “I’m not sure, twenty minutes, maybe less, possibly more. It depends on the strength of the signature, as well as the distance from the spell caster.”

“But we will find him?”

“I’m confident we’ll find him, you have nothing to worry about. I assure you, the one responsible for hurting our Sammy will be made aware of the mistakes they’ve made.”

She pulled away from him, before going over to the bloodstain on the carpet and kneeling down beside it.

“You really care for him, don’t you?” Dean spoke, sounding surprised.

“Of course I do. Not only is he your brother and I know how important he is to you, he’s my friend and my brother, too, although through marriage. I love him just as you do. I love him just the same as I love all of my brothers. Harry, Draco, George, Bill and Charlie, even Percy, though he can be a bit of a prat at times, I still love him. I love them all equally. And now, I have Sam as a brother, too. I’d do for him exactly the same as I would for the others.”

She looked up at him, seeing the softest expression she’d ever seen on his face, and it was aimed directly at her. Her stomach fluttered and her heart pounded under the intense gaze of his eyes.

“Now, come on, I need your help.”

He approached her, squatting down beside her and she pressed the tip of her wand to the tattoo of runes on his chest, before pressing her free hand –rather reluctantly- into the bloodstain on the carpet. Dean watched enraptured as Hermione closed her eyes and tilted her upwards slightly, and she began muttering under her breath, in what he would guess was Latin.

He shuddered when he felt the flames licking at his skin, swarming him comfortingly and protectively, and then he felt a tug from deep within him, followed by one at his heart and he barely held in the grunt of surprise.

He turned his eyes back to Hermione, she was silent now, though he could see her lips moving and her eyes were clearly moving beneath her closed eyelids. He felt another tug, and hope swelled within him. Hope, love and gratitude.

It was going to work. He didn’t know how he knew it, he just did.

~000~000~000~

Twenty minutes later, Hermione’s breathing suddenly picked up and she was making little gasping noises as if she couldn’t breathe. He watched the colour drain from her face, and a sudden golden glow surrounded them both, before Hermione collapsed onto the floor, almost landing in the bloodstain.

Dean hadn’t been expecting it and therefore hadn’t had the chance to catch her before she hit the ground. Luckily, she’d been on her knees at the time so she shouldn’t have hurt herself too badly.

He moved over to her, lifting her into his arms and he stood up and moved over to the bed, placing her down in the centre of it as she lay unresponsive, but breathing. He watched and waited for something to happen, and thankfully, barely minutes later, her eyes fluttered open and she groaned.

“Ow, my head hurts,” she grumbled. “Whoever’s responsible for Sam’s abduction has pissed me off further; I’ve got a pounding headache now. If the consequences before weren’t severe, they bloody are now.”

Despite himself and the situation, he couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped.

“Did it work?” He asked hopefully.

She nodded, and he was pleased to see that the colour was already returning to her face.

“Yes, it worked. I’m not exactly sure where he is, but the spell will lead us straight to him. What I do know is he’s alive.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, looking relieved.

“Yes, he’s alive. I was affected by the spell the way I was because my magical signatures collided, which means he’s alive. If he’d been dead, that wouldn’t have happened. My magic needs a living body to hold onto to stay active. We better get a move on though, from what I could feel, he may not have long left.” He helped her to stand, she wobbled on her feet before gaining her balance. “Let’s go get Sammy and bring him home,” she said, seeing the way Dean’s entire body relaxed as the last of the fear and anxiety left him.

Together they left the room, with Hermione warding it behind her so no one would enter and see the mess left behind and call the police, thinking a murder took place. As they climbed into the car, Hermione slipped on her boots, and Dean put his foot on the accelerator, following the directions from Hermione. She leaned back into the seat, her head tilted back and her eyes closed, trying to keep the connection between herself and Sam open.

~000~000~000~

“You sure?”

“Hmmm, turn left, approximately five-hundred meters. From what I can tell we should follow the road and it’ll take us straight to Sam. The connection between the signatures is the strongest it’s been yet.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked anxiously, turning his head to see her practically dozing off; she looked exhausted.

“Hmm,” she hummed tiredly. “Just tired, it’s taken a lot of my magic to track Sam, and my magical core’s a little unsettled. I don’t tend to use this amount of magic in a month, let alone in a few hours.”

He frowned, feeling worry wash over him. She’d explained what would happen should she ever fall into a magical exhaustive coma and he never wanted to put her at risk of doing so. He shouldn’t have let her cast the spell. He should’ve put his foot down and demanded they find another way, a safer way of tracking Sam.

“Once all this is over and we’ve got Sammy back, we’ll take a break.”

She snorted. “We’ve barely been back a week and we’re only on our second case. We’ve got a backlog of up to ten cases we need to get through before we can even think about taking a few days off.”

“No,” he shook his head. “Sam’s going to need a little time to heal anyway.”

“I can magically heal him, and if it’s too severe for my magic, we’ll call for Castiel. He’ll come if I threaten his feathery arse again.”

He snorted. “Can he help you?”

She knew what he meant and she shook her head tiredly. “No, the only cure for this is rest. I need to rest to allow my magic to recharge itself.”

“That’s settled it then, when all this is over we’ll take a couple of days to allow you to rest. No arguments.”

“You’re worse than Harry and Draco combined.”

~000~000~000~

“Great. Why does it always have to be a creepy, haunted house?” Hermione asked, as she leaned against the Impala, staring at the large house that was standing in front of her in the dark of night.

It had long since grown dark and it was nearing ten o’clock. Hermione should’ve been fed long ago and in bed, snuggled with her husband. But no, she was tracking her abducted brother-in-law to an abandoned, creepy house, where she had no idea what lurked behind closed doors. There was going to be hell to pay for the one responsible.

“Would you prefer it be an abandoned warehouse or mental asylum?” Dean asked from his place by the car boot as he went through the newly improved weapons case.

“No, I’ve had several bad experiences with both.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Are you sure you’re alright to go in? I can do this by myself.”

“And leave you without back up? Not a chance. I’ll power through it and then take a monster nap in the car afterwards.”

“You can barely stand up,” he frowned.

“I’m fine,” she waved him off.

After finishing with the weapons case, he walked over to her, pulling her away from the Impala and without the support, she swayed on her feet.

“You are not going in there.”

“I am too,” she argued.

“Not!”

“Are!”

“Not!”

“Don’t be an arsehole!”

“Don’t be a bloody witch!”

She scowled at him.

“Kiss me,”

“What?” He blinked in surprise.

“Kiss me,” she repeated.

“Why?” He eyed her warily.

She rolled her eyes, before gripping his jacket and pulling him down to her. She pressed herself up against him and her mouth claimed his. Despite his clear confusion, he happily kissed her back, and much to his surprise, when they pulled away from each other, she looked better.

She still looked tired, but less so. She was able to stand without risk of falling at least.

“Physical contact reaffirms and strengthens our bond, which in turn strengthens me. In short, by kissing me, you’ve given me a temporary energy boost. It won’t last long, so we better get a move on. Have you got everything?”

“Yeah, you?” She held her wand up between them as her answer. “Then let’s go.”

Together they walked side by side towards the house and Hermione couldn’t help but shiver when Dean touched the door and it slowly opened with a loud and eerie creak.

They stepped inside, seeing the dark and dingy sight that met them. Broken furniture littered around and sheets covering couches and tables, portraits on the walls and cobwebs and dust covering every surface and fixture in sight.

Dean looked to Hermione, his gun drawn and silently asking where to go. To the left and up the stairs, or straight ahead.

She indicated forward, and they slowly walked through the house, showing the rest of the house to have been just as abandoned as the entrance hallway. They walked through a parlour, followed by a living room, they made their way through the kitchen and to the back of the house, until they came to a door.

“Down there,” Hermione said quietly. “There’s stairs behind the door, I think it’s a basement.”

“Of course it is,” Dean muttered.

Dean wouldn’t allow Hermione to enter first; she rolled her eyes but followed after him, the only sounds being that of the creaking steps as they descended the staircase.

Their eyes quickly adjusted to the dark of the room and once they’d descended the stairs, they heard a grunting noise.

They both spun around, Hermione with her wand gripped tightly in her hand and Dean with his gun pointed.

There was Sam, in the middle of the room, tied to a chair by his wrists, ankles and shoulders. Moonlight shone down on him through the broken window and Hermione could see the blood drops on the floor that led to him. Her eyes locked on his stomach, seeing the alarming bloodstain that had soaked through his shirt.

The bloody shirt she’d bought him in England! And it hadn’t been cheap either! Yet another reason there was going to be hell to pay.

She made to rush forward but Sam struggled in the chair, shaking his head from side to side, trying to say something but there was a piece of cloth tied over his mouth, preventing him from speaking. Dean’s arm shot out, preventing her from moving to Sam, and his eyes swept their surroundings.

“It’s too easy,” he muttered. Sam’s movement grew more frantic. “It’s a trap.”

Dean narrowed his eyes when a figure suddenly appeared behind Sam.

“FUCK!”


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

“Welcome home, Love,” the man drawled.

She felt Dean stiffen beside her and the arm that had been previously held out in front of her to stop her from moving over to Sam, moved until it curled around her back and latched onto her hip. He pulled her into his side with his eyes narrowed on the figure and his gun gripped tightly in his hand.

Hermione was sure she’d heard that voice before, but she couldn’t remember where, and it all became clear when the figure finally stepped into the beam of moonlight, his frame being lit up.

“It’s you,” Hermione frowned.

“Miss me, Darling?” he smirked.

“Not really,” she replied aloofly. “To be honest, I could go the rest of my life without having to look at your ugly mug.”

Dean turned his head to look at her, and when catching his eyes, she couldn’t tell if he was surprised, proud or worried for her response, it was probably all three.

“What?” she asked innocently, though she kept the man in the corner of her eye.

“That’s the King of Hell, Crowley,” he muttered lowly, whilst also watching him from the corner of his eye.

“I know,” she said lightly.

She turned her attention away from him, making sure she held her wand behind her back and out of sight. Crowley’s eyes were darting between her and Dean, watching them carefully, but curiously.

She made a tutting sound. “I do hope that you’ve learned from your past mistakes and tied our Sammy to a comfortable chair, it wouldn’t do well to upset me. My mood right now is not pleasant. I’d rather be home, eating a banoffee muffin whilst tucked up in bed, but instead, I’m here in the basement of a dark, creepy house, watching someone that I care for bleed out, and all over a shirt that I bought him, too. It wasn’t cheap you know, and after we’ve kicked your arse, I’ll be expecting you to reimburse the cost of the lovely shirt you’ve ruined.”

Dean’s hand tightened around her hip.

“So, you have a decision to make, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way, you untie Sam and get out of my sight and you leave us alone. And the hard way, you untie Sam, I beat you to death with your own limbs and then you leave us alone. I know which I’d prefer.”

“My, my, you sure are feisty,” he spoke, and much to Hermione’s annoyance, he seemed to find her words amusing.

“I’m not a person that should be underestimated, particularly when I’m pissed, which it just so happens I am and it’s your fault, meaning I can’t be blamed for what happens next.”

He smirked at her and clicked his fingers, though it seemed as though nothing had changed given Sam’s and Dean’s unresponsive behaviour, Hermione knew differently. She could feel it, a change in the atmosphere. She felt as though she was being watched, as though she was the prey and the predator was stalking her, waiting for the time to strike.

Her eyes darted about the room and she heard low growls, until she saw it. A large, black dog sidling up next to Crowley and standing by his side obediently. Hermione barely held in her gasp; it looked remarkably similar to a Grimm and she’d only seen one in her life and it hadn’t been a pleasant experience, though there were a few differences. Whereas Grimms had large, red eyes, this creature seemed to have black, bottomless holes. Where Grimms had thick, long fur, this creature had short fur that looked to be made of sharply pointed spikes. Her eyes flickered around the room, seeing that there were five more present, one at the top of the stairs guarding the door, the one beside Crowley and the last four slowly approaching them from different angles.

She was vaguely aware of how Dean was now threatening Crowley, though the King of Hell didn’t appear to be paying attention, his eyes were on Hermione, watching how her face paled and her already defensive stance become more so.

“Dean, what are those things?” She asked quietly.

He gave her a sideways glance, looking confused. She pulled away from him and spun, so she had her back to him and she kept watch of the two approaching from the back.

“What things?” He muttered.

“Those bloody things!” She hissed, gesturing around the room. “The things that are about to tear us apart and eat us for bloody supper.”

He looked confused before his eyes moved to Crowley and recognition seemed to dawn on him.

“You can see them?”

She nodded. “You can’t?”

“No, only demons and Angels can, which explains why you’re able to see them and I’m not. They’re hellhounds, Crowley controls them. How many?”

“Six, one on the stairs, one beside Crowley, two approaching from the back and two approaching from the front.”

“Fuck! There’s no way out of this, he’s got us trapped.”

They both turned to look at Crowley to see him smirking.

“Can you get us out of this?” He asked, sounding hopeful.

“I’ll do my best but I’m not up doing my usual tricks; I’m too drained. I may be able to hold them off long enough for us to get out of here. If you can deal with Crowley and get to Sam, I’ll handle these ugly looking things and get us back to the car; I don’t think I’ll be able to be anymore help.”

“That’s more than enough,” he assured her. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she confirmed.

She spun and ran to the staircase, hearing the snarls that ripped from the throats of the hellhounds before they bounded after her. She heard a gunshot but kept her eyes on the hellhound staring down at her from the top of the stairs, and just as it lunged for her, she turned on her heel and apparated out of the basement.

As soon as she landed on her feet, she took off in a sprint, darting through the rooms of the house. She heard the basement down smash into pieces before loud snarls and footfalls echoed through the house.

She led the hellhounds out of the house and away from the Impala, not wishing to be anywhere near it considering what she was planning. She couldn’t take them on one by one, she was outnumbered. So, she had to deal with all six simultaneously and there was only one form of magic she could think of that would allow her to do that. She only hoped her magical core could take the depletion without it putting her into a coma, because Merlin, she didn’t want to have to deal with Dean or Sam afterwards, and the most frightening of the bunch, Bobby. That sent a shiver down her spine.

She looked behind her, shrieking in surprise when one of the hellhounds almost caught her leg in its large mouth; she hadn’t thought they were that close to her! She dived off the side and landed on the dusty ground, hearing the hellhound’s mouth snapping shut, and it skidded to a stop. Still on the ground, she twisted her body and apparated further off into the distance, this time landing in a muddy field. She could already hear the hellhounds approaching, so she pushed herself off the ground and stood tall. She closed her eyes and focused her magic, clearing her mind of all thoughts except for one.

She felt the disruption in the air around her and she slowly opened her eyes, seeing that she was surrounded and they were slowly inching their way towards her. She gripped her wand tightly and took a deep breath, before slowly lifting her wand.

“ _Fiendfyre_ ,” she whispered.

The possessed flames tore from the tip of her wand, the large dragon head in the centre of the flames giving a roaring sound, before sweeping around Hermione in a circular motion, leaving her stood in the centre of a ring of wild flames, hearing the agonized and furious snarls of the hellhounds that the fire was devouring.

She kept her eyes closed, not wishing to witness the possessed flames at work and once the sounds stopped, she focused her magic on extinguishing the flames before they devoured everything in sight.

She gasped loudly and collapsed to the floor, feeling her head go dizzy, feeling her lungs burning with the need for oxygen having not realised that the fire had stolen her breath. She held herself up on her knees with shaking arms and her head was bowed low, not caring that her hair had fallen into the mud and dirt beneath her.

Thanking every deity there was that she hadn’t immediately passed out and that her magical core was still functioning, she forced herself to stand up. Not wanting to risk injuring herself or weakening her magic further by using apparition, she stumbled her way back to the house that held her husband, brother-in-law and their captor.

It took her longer than she’d have liked and by the time she’d reached the house, she could feel the aches and pains seeping into her very bones, she could feel her magical core being drained from her magic use, she could feel the need for sleep setting in, but before she could fall unconscious and get the rest she needed, she had to heal Sam and make sure that he and Dean were alright.

She took a minute leaning against the couch in the living room to gather her wits about her; if Crowley was still in play, she couldn’t show him weakness. Despite her body’s protests, she stood taller and squared her shoulders, and she made her way to the basement. She almost fell down the stairs and that’s when two arms reached out to steady her, wrapping around her and lifting her until her feet gently hit the ground.

Her eyes flittered around the room, seeing that Sam was still partially tied to the chair, though he was no longer gagged. Crowley was on the ground with his back slumped against the wall and he appeared to be out for the count. Hermione’s body sagged in relief at not having to put on a show.

Dean’s hand on her face drew her eyes back to him, he had a worried frown on his face and his eyes searched her form, likely looking for injuries and aside from looking dirty and exhausted, she was fine.

“Hermione?” He questioned softly, seeing that she was all but limp in his arms as she leaned against him and her eyes were drooping.

“I’m fine,” she muttered. “I had to perform a bit of magic that’s extremely draining and difficult to control; it was the only way to get rid of the hellhounds as a group. I’m lucky it didn’t send me into a coma.” She forced her eyes open. “Now, let me go, I’m hoping I have enough energy in my core to allow me to heal Sam and get us back to the Impala, before knobhead over there comes to.”

His frown deepened. “I don’t want you burning yourself out or putting yourself in danger.”

“Sam needs me,” she replied.

“No, we’ll call for Cas, he can heal him.”

“You already have, haven’t you? He’s not coming.”

“He hasn’t answered, no,” he admitted.

“As I said, Sam needs me. I can pass out after I’ve healed him. He doesn’t have long left.”

She made to pull away but before she could, Dean’s mouth descended on hers and she blinked in surprise but otherwise responded. When he pulled back, she felt a jolt running through her body and straight to her core, feeding her a little more energy to help her get through with healing Sam. His eyes searched her body and face, seeing that when he stepped back she was able to stand by herself once more.

Hermione nodded before making her way over to Sam. She kneeled on the floor in front of him and with a flick of her wand, the rest of the ropes disappeared and he was able to move, though he looked just as sluggish as she felt, and upon seeing his pale and sweaty complexion, she wasted no time in lifting his shirt, but it was stuck to the wound. She sighed before banishing the shirt altogether, leaving him shirtless and bleeding out.

He watched her with droopy eyes as she siphoned away the blood, seeing that the wound quickly started bleeding once more, though she could see it to be a straight line positioned between his belly button and his waist. She’d seen her fair share of stab wounds to know what one looked like.

She siphoned away the blood once more, before digging into her pocket and pulling out her beaded bag, where she summoned the required healing supplies. She covered the wound in both Dittany and Essence of Murtlap, you weren't supposed to mix the two together due to the reaction of the properties mixing, but she wasn’t taking any chances with Sam’s life. As long as he survived, he could live with a potential itchy rash. Once she was satisfied the bleeding had stopped and the wound was already beginning to heal, she wrapped gauze and bandages around it, to allow the Dittany time to soak into the skin and re-grow another layer. She summoned a Pain Reliever, a Blood Replenisher and an Invigoration Draught and she handed them off to Dean so he could help feed them to Sam.

Hermione sat back, wiping Sam’s blood off her hands and onto her jeans, and they waited for the results to show. Slowly the colour returned to Sam’s face and he lifted his head, his gaze locking onto Hermione’s instantly.

“You have no fear,” he said, and although she was exhausted, it pulled a laugh from her.

“That’s my girl, she’s a badass,” Dean said proudly. “She killed six hellhounds.” Sam blinked in surprise. “It turns out, she can see them.”

“Yes, thanks to my lovely mother,” Hermione replied, stifling a yawn.

“That’s going to come in handy,” Sam commented, still appearing to be surprised by the news.

“We better get out of here before you pass out, and Crowley wakes up,” Dean said, helping Hermione onto her feet, and the energy boost he’d given her through their kiss wore off and she slumped against him.

Dean gave her a worried look, as did Sam, having no idea of what she’d put her magic through just for him. Dean silently asked if Sam was able to stand by himself, and he pushed himself up onto his feet. Sam wobbled but quickly regained his balance, and although he was able to walk, he still held his hand against his side.

They made their way to the stairs and quickly found themselves out of the house. Dean spied the grey smoke that was still lingering off in the distance.

“It was my doing, it’s a result from the magics I used,” Hermione mumbled.

Dean helped her into the back seat of the Impala and he pulled out the pillow and duvet that she’d stored in a magical box underneath the seats, placing the pillow under her head and covering her with the duvet. She had passed out before he’d finished. He eyed her anxiously before grabbing one of the spare t-shirts they kept in the car and he handed it to Sam, who had a little trouble putting it on. Dean climbed into the driver’s side, and Sam sat in the passenger’s seat as Dean started the ignition and set off on their journey back to the motel.

“What happened to her?” Sam asked, looking tired himself and his head was pressed against the window.

“She tracked you with her magic, she not only used illegal blood magic, but she latched onto her magic which is held in our tattoos. She said that tracking you used more magic than she would ever use in a month. You should’ve seen her on the drive over here, she could barely keep her eyes open, fuck, she could barely move. She couldn’t even stand upright. And on top of the tracking magic, she used a draining form of magic to kill the hellhounds _and_ she healed you. We’re lucky she hasn’t fallen into a magical coma, they don’t wake up from them.”

Sam looked horrified. “Why would she do that?”

“She did it for you.”

“Why would she risk her health in such a way? It’s stupid!”

“She loves you. You’re as much her little brother as you are mine.”

Sam blinked, surprised by Dean’s words, and also feeling touched that Hermione cared for him enough to jeopardise her own health, even if it had been a stupid decision. He knew she cared for him, but he didn’t know it was to that extent. He’d just assumed it was more of a friend thing. He thought of her as an older sister, but he had no idea that she thought of him as a brother, too, even if they technically were siblings through marriage. Dean telling him so only increased his respect for Hermione, and he didn’t think that was possible. 

“Fuck!” Dean cursed, slamming on the brakes and the car skidded to a stop.

He turned to look at Hermione, seeing that she hadn’t woken and thankfully she hadn’t been injured or jostled about either. He turned back around and gripped the steering wheel tightly in his hands, before ignoring Sam’s words of warning and stepping out of the car.

“Nice to see you again, Love.”

Dean glared murderously at the smirking man before him. “What do you want, Crowley?”

“What is she?” He asked, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“Off-limits!” He growled.

“My, my, you are protective of her. I had thought my little birds were over exaggerating, it appears not,” he replied, sounding surprised and confused.

“You leave her alone and you leave us alone.”

“Can’t do that, Sunshine, it’s bad for business,” he slipped his hands into his pockets.

“I don’t give a fuck about your _business_. You leave her alone, and I’ll let you live.”

“I’m the King of Hell, I’m already dead,” he deadpanned. Dean’s glare hardened. “Where is the little she-devil?” He asked, his eyes searching for her through the car window, before spotting her asleep on the back seat. “Oh, did I wear her out?” He asked lightly.

Dean gritted his teeth. “You hurt my brother, I’ll kill you. You hurt my wife, you’re a dead man walking!” Dean warned.

He climbed back into the car and put his foot down on the accelerator, intending to plough straight through Crowley, who moved out of the way. Dean hadn’t realised the mistake he’d made regarding his choice of words.

“Interesting, very interesting indeed. What are you, little spitfire?” Crowley muttered with a thoughtful expression on his face, watching as the Impala disappear into the distance.


	71. Chapter 71

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

“It’s been five days,” Dean muttered from his place in the chair, sitting beside the bed Hermione’s sleeping form was occupying.

“And she’s fine,” Sam spoke up from his position, lounging on his bed with one of Hermione’s Wizarding History books held open on his lap. “You’ve been feeding her those Nutrition Potions so we know she’s healthy, and Cas dropped by the other day to check on her. If he had any concerns he would’ve said.”

Dean sighed and ran his hands through his hair, his eyes glued to his slumbering wife. He was worried about her, he knew her magic needed to recharge itself but he’d only been expecting her to be asleep for three days maximum, like she’d said, and now they were on day five. He’d made sure he gave her the Nutrition Potions he had to the last time she’d been in a coma, and he could visibly see that she wasn’t injured or hurting, she looked completely fine.

He’d finally managed to get Castiel to answer his call and when he visited two days ago, he’d not only checked Sam’s stab wound which was all but healed by that point and largely thanks to Hermione, but he checked Hermione, too, assuring Dean that she was perfectly healthy and just sleeping, and that when her magic was settled she’d wake.

Even though they’d been holed up in the same motel room for the last week, he missed her. He missed being able to hear her voice, he missed seeing her smile, he missed her affectionate touches and behaviour, he missed her scolding him and arguing with Sam about the existence of magical creatures. He missed being able to sleep next to her, and in the last five days, he’d gotten some sleep, but it didn’t last long due to his nightmares and the uncomfortable chair he was perched in. He could feel the longing inside of him beginning to set in, for obvious reasons they hadn’t been intimate in almost a week and he hoped Hermione woke before he started getting headaches, and their health began to suffer. He never wanted to feel that again, especially when she was so close to him, yet so far away.

He heard Sam’s voice and lifted his head, his eyes looking around the room they were staying in, the one Sam had been abducted from. Although they had righted the furniture, broken glass still littered the ground in some areas and the bloodstain still remained on the carpet. He hoped Hermione could do something with her magic to get rid of it, otherwise, it would be difficult to explain to the owners of the motel, and due to the sheer size of the stain, they’d likely get the police involved and he was not risking ending up back on their radar, especially since Hermione had only just had their records cleared.

“Dean? Dean?”

“What?” He said tiredly, stifling a yawn.

“Dinner? What do you want?”

He sighed. “I don’t really care, whatever you want,” he replied, turning his eyes back to Hermione.

Sam was worried for his brother, though this time he now understood the extenuating circumstances that surrounded his relationship with Hermione. At least this time he knew why Dean’s behaviour was so worrying, and at least this time Dean ate, showered and slept, it wasn’t as much as he’d have liked, but he’d take what he could get.

“Fine, I’ll be back in about an hour.”

“Take your time, it’s not like I’m going anywhere,” he muttered in reply.

Sam sighed, before closing his book and placing it on the mattress, he climbed off the bed and retrieved the car keys from the table and left the room, taking the motel key so he could lock the door from the outside. Dean stood and re-salted the door; now he knew that Crowley was interested in Hermione and likely wouldn’t stop trying to discover her secret, he wasn’t taking any chances with her safety.

~000~000~000~

The feeling of a hand running through his hair and nails lightly scratching at his scalp had his eyes opening, and he immediately became aware that his back was hurting as he was slumped over in the chair, with his arms on the bed and his head cushioned by them.

When he felt the light scratching at his scalp once more, his mind zeroed in on the action, knowing there was only one person that would do that. He lifted his head, his eyes immediately locking on the chocolate brown orbs in front of him.

Hermione was laid on her side, a hand tucked under her cheek whilst the other continued running through his hair, and upon seeing him awake, she gave him a sleepy smile.

“Hey, Patrick,” she said softly.

He sat up quickly, dislodging her hand from his hair and before she could blink, she was pulled until she was sitting upright and Dean had wrapped himself around her in a tight hug. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her forehead against his shoulder.

They stayed that way, just holding each other in silence for several minutes until Dean pulled back from her, moving forward in his intent to kiss her.

Hermione’s finger pressed against his mouth stopped him and he frowned.

“No, I’ve been out for...”

“Five days,” he answered.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered, sounding surprised before shaking her head. “Five days and I need to brush my teeth and shower before I even contemplate allowing you to touch me. It’s disgusting,” she grimaced.

He made to argue, but she pulled away from him and shuffled out of bed until her feet hit the ground. She stood up slowly, learning her mistake from the last time. She stumbled to the bathroom and the first thing she did was brush her teeth, and she spent a good five minutes doing so. Afterwards, she turned on the shower and stripped out of the t-shirt that Dean must’ve put her in at some point, seeing as it was one of his.

She stepped into the shower and quickly set to carrying out her hygiene routine of scrubbing her body of Sam’s remaining dried blood on her hands and arms, she shaved her legs and her underarms, feeling much better in doing so, and then she tackled her mass of curls.

She felt Dean’s presence behind her just as she was finishing washing out the conditioner from her hair, and her hair was now plastered down her back in a thick, but clean mass. She felt his arms snake around her stomach and he rested his chin on her shoulder, she sighed, bringing her hands up and lacing her fingers through his.

“I missed you,” he muttered, turning his head to place a kiss to her neck.

“I’ve been here the entire time.”

“It’s not the same,” he shook his head and she understood his meaning.

She turned in his arms until she was facing him and she brought her hands up to either side of his face, her eyes sweeping his frame.

“You’ve been taking care of yourself?” She asked.

He nodded. “I’ve been eating and sleeping,” he assured her.

“Just not as much as you should be,” she said knowingly.

“I showered this time.”

“Thank the Lord,” Hermione responded and he chuckled at her. “Where’s Sam?”

“He went to get dinner; I’m not sure how long ago since I fell asleep, I told him to take his time.”

“He’s alright?”

He smiled. “He’s fine. His wound was all but healed after three days. Cas finally showed his face and checked the both of you over. He said your healing did the job and you more than likely saved his life.”

“That’s good to know,” she nodded sincerely before a frown appeared.

“What is it?”

“I may have to update my training.”

“Training?” He asked confused.

“Medical training, every Auror is required to have their emergency first aid training, as well as basic counter curse, spell reversal and dangerous poising healing training. It’s been a while since I’ve had to heal an injury such as Sam’s, and I have the feeling it’s not going to be the last.”

“What you did worked perfectly, you saved his life,” he said softly, pushing a wet piece of hair out of her face.

“I suppose so, it’s not like I have the time for the training courses anyway, and we have more than one option available for healing injuries.” He raised an eyebrow. “There’s me, there’s Castiel when he actually pulls his head out of his arse and answers our calls, and now, since you’re married to me you have access to magical healing, too. If you’re too badly injured and I can’t heal you and Castiel isn’t responding, I can take you to a magical hospital and they have no choice but to heal you. Not only due to my marriage to you despite you being a muggle, but also due to our bond. I could die without you and vice versa, they won’t risk that happening, it’ll be similar to a veela and her mate. Through our marriage you’re protected by the laws of my world,” she shrugged.

He blinked in surprise. “And Sam?”

She bit her lip. “Technically he shouldn’t be allowed access to magical healing, nor should he be protected by our laws.”

“But?” He said knowingly.

“But they’ll give him it, otherwise I’ll kick up a fuss.” He snorted. “And besides, at the moment everyone in the Wizarding World thinks you’re both wizards, by the time they’d started treatment on him and realised he’s a muggle, it’d be too late.” She smiled when he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “So, what’s happened since I’ve been asleep, hope I didn’t miss any fun?”

He chuckled. “Not really, though Bobby’s pissed.”

“Of course he is, I’m dreading that phone call, though I’d rather that than a face to face meeting, at least he can’t slap me over the head and later hug me, dislodging my spine in the process whilst denying his worry for me.”

He laughed. “He’s pissed you put yourself in such danger. He’s pissed Sammy let his guard down. He’s pissed that Crowley’s the one responsible, and he’s...”

“Pissed?”

He snorted. “Proud for the fearless way in which you spoke to Crowley. He’s proud that you killed six hellhounds. He’s proud that you saved Sammy, and he’s happy that you’re both going to be fine.” She smiled. “We’re going to have to be more cautious now.” He frowned. “Crowley’s officially interested in you, and he’s going to continue trying to get to you.”

She shrugged. “So let him come. Now that we know what he’s after, we’ll be ready. And should he come, I have a few speciality hexes up my sleeve,” she grinned.

“That’s my girl,” he said proudly.

“Have there been any more deaths?”

He shook his head. “No, we’re not quite sure what was responsible, but seeing as Crowley was obviously involved it was more than likely one of his demons. Whatever it was, it’s gone now and there’s been no more deaths.”

“Case over?”

“Case over,” he nodded. “Bobby called two days ago wanting to check on you. He has a case for us when you’re up to it.”

“Great, we can leave in the morning.” He frowned. “I’m fine, Dean, and I know you’ve been feeding me my Nutrition Potions, so I’m healthy too, though I’d kill for banoffee muffin right now.” He snorted. “So, what do we have?”

“We’re not sure yet, Bobby said he’d give us the details once you’d recovered. I’ll call him in the morning.”

She nodded, before scowling. “Don’t even think about it!” She warned, pointing her finger in Dean’s face at feeling his hands beginning to move towards her arse.

“But I missed you, it’s been five days.”

“We’ve gone longer,” she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Yes, but it tortured the both of us and we’re trying for a baby. Aren’t we?”

Her face softened. “You said so yourself, you don’t know how long Sam’s been gone and he could be back at any time.”

“We can be quick, we’ve done it before.”

She sighed. “You’re a pain in the arse.” He grinned. “If Sam comes back and walks in on us, it’s your fault.”

He claimed her mouth in a kiss and swooped down, lifting her into his arms and climbing out of the shower, walking back into the room and placing her down in the centre of the bed. Hermione reached over for her wand and used it dry the both of them off, whilst sending a spell in the direction of the bathroom to stop the shower from running, since Dean hadn’t remembered to turn it off in his excitement. Before she’d even put her wand down, his body covered hers.

~000~000~000~

They were laid in bed together, snuggled closely with Hermione wearing another of Dean’s t-shirts and Dean had put on a pair of boxers. Sam had yet to return from dinner and looking at the clock, Dean noted that he’d been gone for nearly four hours, and they’d had plenty of time to get in two tumbles in the sheets. He’d have gone for a third, but Hermione was still tired despite the five days of sleep she’d had.

Hermione lay with her head on his Dean’s chest, he had one arm under her t-shirt, his fingers trailing her skin, and his free hand was held by Hermione, their fingers laced together as she held them up to her face, watching their hands closely.

“You’ve got an indentation on this finger,” she said, moving her thumb to run over the fourth finger on his hand. “You used to have a ring?” She questioned.

“Yeah, it was nothing of importance, to be honest, I don’t even remember where I got it, likely won it hustling someone at pool.” She rolled her eyes. “I used it to open beer bottles.” She snorted. “I lost it sometime during the whole mess with the end of the world and Lucifer.”

“Do you want another one?”

“No, I don’t need it. Not when I have a witch that can open anything with a flick of her wand.”

She snorted at him. “That’s not all I’m good for.”

“I know, you make a great pie, too,” he said seriously.

She released his hand to smack at his chest and he laughed loudly, until she shrieked as Dean put her on her back and he loomed over her, his hands burrowing under her t-shirt to tickle at her sides and ribs. She shrieked and laughed madly as she tried to wiggle free from him, but he was stronger than her and he wasn’t relenting. Thankfully, they heard the key in the lock before the door opened and Hermione’s laughter cut off, her breathing coming out in pants and her eyes watering since Dean had momentarily stopped in his assault.

They both turned their heads, seeing Sam step through the door and into the room, locking the door after himself and re-salting the door, all before he even noticed they were both awake.

He turned and his eyes landed on them and smirks pulled at their faces seeing his appearance. His hair was messy, as though someone had been running their hands through it, his clothing was rumpled and creased, and his t-shirt was on back to front. It was obvious to them what he’d been up to and it suddenly made sense why he’d been gone for so long.

Hermione and Dean looked to each other, their eyes alight with amusement and mischief and with matching smirks they turned to look at Sam.

“You’re awake? How are you feeling?” Sam asked.

They ignored him.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean started with a smirk.

“Where’ve you been?” Hermione asked innocently, pointedly looking him up and down.

Much to their amusement, his cheeks held a small tinge of pink.

He cleared his throat. “To get dinner,” he replied, holding up the bag in his hand as evidence.

“Yeah, and the rest,” Dean said lightly.

Hermione burst into giggles. “Sam, your shirt’s on backwards,” she pointed out. He looked down at himself. “And your fly’s undone.”

Sam’s entire face flamed red before he quickly fastened the zipper. He put the bag on the table and made his way to the bathroom, hiding away from their teasing and knowing looks.

“Hope you had fun!” Hermione called after him.

“I hope this chick was worth it; if my food’s cold I’m kicking your ass,” Dean shouted.

They heard an embarrassed whine from behind the closed door and they both burst out laughing.


	72. Chapter 72

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 11

“So, where are we heading?” Hermione finally asked from her place in the passenger’s seat, munching on a sandwich whilst Dean drove and Sam was in the back seat, reading another of her books.

They hadn’t left the motel until a little after lunch, with it taking some time for Hermione to find a spell that would remove the bloodstain from the carpet, which hadn’t been easy. In the end, she settled for an Illusion Charm, so no one would know it was there and by the time the charm wore off they’d be long gone, and Hermione had made sure to alter the blood sample so it could never be connected to Sam.

They’d been woken that morning by a phone call from Bobby, and of course, Hermione was scolded and insulted over the phone until Bobby had run out of breath, and after he’d finished with his telling off for her “stupid behaviour,” he’d given them a location for their next case.

He hadn’t given them any other details yet, as he wanted them to confirm a theory of his before he told them of his suspicions. And so, it was now evening and they’d been on the road for almost seven hours, in that time they’d stopped for dinner, and at two convenience stores so Hermione could purchase more snacks, since she swore up and down she was starving. The brothers didn’t bother arguing with her. It was safer that way.

“Portland, Oregon,” Dean answered.

“I’ve never been there,” Hermione hummed.

“It’s about a day and a half travel, if we’re lucky. We’ll drive through the night so we can get there without having to stop. Once we’re there, we’ll head to the morgue so you can check out the body. Did Bobby say what he wanted you to do?”

“Yes, I don’t know why, but he wants me to see if I can detect whether or not the victim was a virgin.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You can do that?”

“There’s a medical spell that was used decades ago, in ensuring that Pureblood girls were still virgins, both before an arranged marriage was set if done so after the fifteenth birthday and before the actual wedding. It’s not really used much these days, simply because most witches don’t tend to wait until marriage, especially the Purebloods. Draco’s own parents had him set to marry Astoria Greengrass, a Pureblood witch, from the day she was born and she was two years younger than us. After the war, Draco took over Malfoy Industries and he became the Head of the House of Malfoy, meaning he had the power to break the betrothal contract. He’d fallen in love with Luna during the war, as she’d been taken prisoner and held in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. He protected her as best he could. He couldn’t marry someone he didn’t love, his parents had done so and he’d been forced to witness their hateful marriage as he grew, he didn’t want that for himself and he doesn’t want it for little Scorpius either. He’s already received petitions for betrothal contracts for Scorpius from twenty-two Pureblood families in Europe, and more keep arriving by the day.”

“He’s not even three months old!” Sam protested.

“I know,” she sighed. “But Draco’s not going to accept any of them, he wants his son to be happy, for him to choose who he wishes to marry, witch or wizard. Besides, if he ever takes the choice away from Scorpius regarding his future relationships, I’ll be second in line to kill him with Luna leading the charge. For someone so calm, she’s bloody frightening.” They both snorted. “Do either of you have any idea of what we may be dealing with?”

“No, not until we’re given the details. All we know is there’s a dead body and several women have disappeared. Has Bobby told you anything else?” Sam asked.

“No, just what we already know,” she shrugged.

~000~000~000~

“This building has appalling security,” Hermione commented, as she and the brothers walked into the morgue and headed straight for the freezers where the bodies were kept. It took her three tries to find the body she was looking for.

They both snorted. “Only because you used magic to break in,” Sam pointed out.

“Are you complaining?” She asked, looking up at him even as she continued to wave her wand over the body.

“No, it’s a lot easier than picking locks, dodging security cameras and guards, and blindly navigating the corridors,” he replied, leaning against the wall, whilst watching the corridor for anyone approaching.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, before looking back down to the body.

Hermione sighed, seeing the young, pretty redhead that can’t have been older than twenty-one. If Hermione had to guess, she would say the young woman was a college student, but without Bobby’s intel, she couldn’t be sure.

Her eyes were drawn when the result of the spell glowed white, informing her that the young woman had been a virgin.

“What’s the verdict?” Dean asked.

“Virgin,” Hermione sighed, taking one last look at the young woman before closing the freezer door. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” she said, walking over to him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

“Then we better be careful,” Dean replied, seeing no point in brushing off her worries; every time she’d said those seven words, something had always gone wrong.

“We better get out of here before we’re caught; we’ve gotten what we came for.”

~000~000~000~

“So just because this one victim was a virgin, you’re assuming the other missing women are virgins?” Sam frowned, looking at the phone that sat in the centre of the table of their motel room on loudspeaker, so all of them could hear.

“I’m not assuming, I know,” his gruff voice replied, and it wasn’t difficult to hear that he sounded annoyed.

“So what are we dealing with?” Dean asked, pulling Bobby’s attention.

“Dragons.”

The brothers turned to look at Hermione who had a deep frown on her face.

“Don’t look at me, despite what muggle fairytales depict, dragons don’t steal damsels in distress and keep them locked away in towers,” she rolled her eyes. “In reality, unless a dragon is born and raised on a reserve, they don’t trust humans and they’re highly dangerous creatures. They’d eat you, not kidnap you.”

They both frowned at her words.

“No, I believe it’s a dragon from medieval mythology,” Bobby’s voice came over the speaker. “There isn’t much information on them, but there’s someone I know who may be able to help you. Dr. Visyak, she’s a professor in medieval mythology. She’s your best bet at closing this case and getting the women back. I’ve estimated there to have been at least eight women taken and they have nothing in common except for being virgins.”

“How do we kill these dragons?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know, that’s why you need to see Visyak. I’ll keep digging and see if I can find anything else, but I doubt I will. Let me know if you need me,” Bobby said, before hanging up the phone.

The three Winchesters looked to each other.

“I’ll go see this Visyak,” Dean said.

“Once Bobby sends over the information on the kidnapped women, I’ll work on trying to find a motive behind their kidnappings,” Sam spoke.

“Once we have their addresses, I’ll head over to their homes and find something that I can use to track their location; hopefully I can lead us straight to them.”

“No,” the brothers said together instantly.

She scowled. “Relax, I told you my reaction to the Tracking Spell was due to the use of blood magic and my magic reacting to the magic in Sam’s tattoo, it won’t happen again. I’m going to be using personal items to find them, possibly a hairbrush or toothbrush. And that reminds me, I need to recharge your tattoos, so when I have the chance I’ll feed more of my magic into them.”

~000~000~000~

“Did you learn anything?” Sam asked, looking up from his laptop as Dean entered their motel room.

Dean’s eyes fell to the corner of the room where Hermione was kneeled in the corner, her eyes closed, her lips moving as silent words left her and with her wand being moved in intricate patterns over the variety of objects that sat in front of her, mainly toothbrushes, hairbrushes and a single locket.

“Basically what Bobby said, only I know how to destroy these dragons.”

“How?” Hermione muttered, though she didn’t change her positioning nor did she stop what she was doing.

“We need a weapon that’s been forged from dragon blood, or the great dragon-slaying sword. Visyak let slip that she was in possession of it, though she seemed reluctant to part with it, luckily for us, she mentioned she keeps it in her basement. So we wait until the coast is clear and then we steal it,” he shrugged his shoulders, moving to sit on one of the beds.

“ _Or_ , we use a weapon forged from dragon blood,” Hermione said.

They both turned to look at her. “And where are we supposed to get one of those?” Sam asked confused.

“Easy, Charlie,” she answered with a shrug. “You’re forgetting he’s a dragon tamer, he should have access to a weapon such as that, and if not, I can speak to Harry. His department often performs raids on residences and properties that are thought to contain illegal magical items. Dragons are an endangered species which is why they are protected. Anyone that is found to have illegal goods that originate from any part of a dragon is either given a fine or a prison sentence.”

“But I’ve seen in one of your potions books that you have ingredients such as dragon’s blood and scales.”

“They’re not illegal, dragon blood and dragon scales are rare ingredients, and they can only be extracted once the dragon is dead and not before. It’s perfectly legal if a dragon is dead, but if a dragon is killed for the purpose of extracting its blood and scales, you’ll automatically be facing a prison sentence. Sometimes blood is extracted for the purpose of checking the dragon’s health, which can then be sold on, and most of the time dragons tend to shed their scales as they grow, and they can be collected and sold, since a lot of wizarding gloves, shoes and bags are made from dragonhide. Now, dragon blood forged weapons are a little more tricky for the reason that the blood has to still be warm, since despite popular belief, dragons are not cold-blooded, though some do prefer hotter climates than others, it depends on the breed. Anyway, the only way to have warm blood is through killing the dragon and immediately extracting their blood, and I’m not talking a small potion vial of blood, I’m talking a quarter of the blood in the dragon’s body, at least. No one can say the weapon was forged accidentally or unintentionally. So back to my original point, I can have Harry check the confiscated goods warehouse for any dragon forged weapons, they’re rare but there’s likely to be one in there. It’ll be a pain in the arse to get it out, but I’ll ask Kingsley for a little help since he’s aware of what it is you boys do.”

They both blinked in surprise, not only due to the information she’d revealed but also because she hadn’t once moved her focus from her task of finding the location of the missing women.

“At any rate, we should probably get our hands on that dragon killing sword, if my suspicions are correct, I bet that when I examine it, it’s a magical artefact that’s in the possession of a muggle.”

“So we’re breaking in?” Dean sounded far too pleased.

“No,” she shook her head. “We can’t risk you getting caught and if the sword goes missing, Visyak will suspect you, I’ll send someone else in. They’ll be in and out before any of us can blink.”

They fell silent, waiting for her to make her move, but she didn’t.

“And...I think I’ve got it,” she spoke ten minutes later, opening her eyes and standing up, rubbing her numb legs trying to get rid of the pins and needles feeling before she even attempted to move.

“You’ve found them?” Sam asked surprised.

“I think so,” she nodded, gesturing towards the strange, differently coloured lines that floated in front of Hermione before they connected to one point in the centre, almost like a spider web.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I believe it’s a map.”

“A map of what?”

“The sewer systems,” she replied. Both brothers grimaced. “I know, one of these days we’re going to investigate a haunted spa or a private beach,” she sighed. 

Dean snorted. “Don’t get your hopes up, Sweetheart. Right, we know where they are, we know what we’re dealing with and we know how to kill them, all we need is the weapon.”

“I can’t find any reasoning behind their kidnappings, I don’t understand the motive,” Sam frowned.

“I don’t suppose it matters now, we take out the ones responsible and then we can have a late dinner.” The brothers rolled their eyes at her. “Right boys, let’s get our things in order, we’re going hunting.”

~000~000~000~

“Zipper,” Hermione called softly.

The little house-elf appeared in their motel room and bowed lowly to Hermione, before turning towards Dean and doing the same.

“Mistress, Master,” he squeaked.

Hermione smiled at him, Zipper had been with her for the last three years and his previous Master had been one of the worst she’d come across, and he more than deserved his sentence in Azkaban, which he still had another fifty-five years remaining for his crimes against wizarding society. Zipper had just entered his teenage years for a house-elf and his ears were large and pointed with fur, he had large green eyes, his skin was more grey than green and wrinkled, and he wore a white shirt, a bowtie and black trousers.

“Good evening, Zipper,” Hermione said kindly. “I was wondering if you might help me with a small task.”

“Zipper is happys to serves his Mistress and Master,” he said happily, bowing once more.

Hermione chuckled. “Thank you, it won’t take long. I need your assistance in retrieving a possible magical artefact that is in the possession of a muggle.” Zipper nodded furiously. “It’s a sword, and it’s believed to be kept in the basement of a property belonging to a Dr. Visyak. You are the only one I believe is able to retrieve the sword quickly and without being seen.”

“Yes, Mistress, Zippers do as Mistress wishes,” he bowed, before disappearing.

“He didn’t even ask for the address,” Sam frowned.

“He doesn’t need it,” Hermione replied. “House-elf magic,” she shrugged, as if that explained everything.

~000~000~000~

Fifteen minutes later, not only did Zipper return with the sword, but Mimsy and Hopper appeared also, after Hermione had called for them to deliver a letter to Harry and Charlie.

“That was fast,” she blinked, having not expected it to be so easy. “Thank you, Zipper, you’ve done remarkably, please take the rest of the night and the following day off from your chores,” she said, taking the wrapped up sword from him.

“No, Mistress,” he replied, before bowing and returning to the apartment. Dean and Sam snorted when Hermione scowled.

Hermione unwrapped the cloth from the sword, seeing that it didn’t look remarkable or powerful, no, it looked seemingly unimportant, it looked simple. The blade of the sword was sliver, and the handle of the sword was black with a silver tip. It was nothing compared to the Sword of Gryffindor, with the gold, rubies and the inscription of words of wisdom from the Founder himself. She found herself disappointed.

“What’s that look for?” Sam asked.

“It’s not what I was expecting.”

“You sound disappointed,” he noted.

“I am. Remind me to show you the Sword of Gryffindor some time, then you’ll understand my disappointment.”

She put the sword down before Hopper stepped forward and bowed, holding out a smaller item wrapped in a cloth.

“Mr. Charlie tolds Hopper thats you woulds be likings this,” the house-elf said.

He was dressed in a manner similar to Zipper, though Hopper was quite a bit older than him, in fact, he was the second oldest of her house-elves, and he was the second house-elf she’d rescued after Mimsy. His skin was dark green with deep wrinkles and dark blue eyes. His fingers were long and bony and he had a patch of fur in the centre of the backs of his hands.

“He be sayings that its what Mistress needs.”

“Thank you, Hopper,” Hermione smiled, taking the item from him. “You’ve done wonderfully, you may also retire for the evening and take tomorrow off from chores.”

“No, Mistress,” he replied bowing and then returning to the apartment. Hermione scowled and Dean and Sam sniggered.

Mimsy stepped forward. “Mr. Harry saids that Mistress better bes careful or he wills gives Mr. Draco yours coordinates.” Hermione snorted, taking the larger item from her. “Mr. Harry’s say thats The Ministers says Mistress can keeps the item.”

Hermione blinked in surprise. “Thank you, Mimsy, as always you have been wonderful. You may...”

“No,” Mimsy stomped her foot and put her hands on her hips.

Hermione blinked, aware of Sam and Dean laughing behind her. Mimsy bowed to her and Dean, before returning to the apartment.

“I’m starting to like those little elves,” Dean commented, seeing her dazed expression.

She shook her head, before opening the cloth from the larger item, revealing a small machete made of silver and gold with a black handle, and an image of a dragon etched into the blade. She placed that down, opening up the last item and revealing what looked to be a dagger. This, too, was made of silver, though it looked to have emeralds embedded in the blade, along with the marking of a serpent etched onto the handle, it wasn’t difficult for her to imagine who the dagger had been confiscated from.

“Alright, the machete’s on loan, but we can keep the dagger, it’s just as well, it might come in handy in the future since it’s silver _and_ dragon blood forged. Once this is over, I’ll run some diagnostics on the sword, but I’ll have to hand it into the Ministry, where they’ll have their agents test every strand of magic in the sword.”

“So it is magical?” Sam asked.

“Yes, I can feel the flow of the magic inside the sword when I’m holding it, which means it’s a magical item.”

“Right then, let’s get this over with,” Dean clapped his hands.

~000~000~000~

“Why does everything have to bloody go wrong with those two!” Hermione grumbled.

She was following her wand’s directions through the underground tunnels of the sewers, whilst Sam and Dean distracted the dragons since they’d discovered there were two of them. Thankfully, they appeared as humans as she wasn’t sure she could handle anything else.

She grimaced as she stepped in something that didn’t smell pleasant, she vanished it with a wave of her hand and took the next left, coming into a large tomb that held several large metal cages, and inside each cage was one of the missing women.

Upon seeing her arrival, they all gripped at the bars, trying to reach out to her and begging for her to help them. She wasted no time in rushing into the centre of the tomb and with a wave of her wand and a muttered incantation, every lock on the cages broke and the doors swung open. The women all looked at her with various amount of disbelief, fear and surprise. She’d wipe their minds later, right now they didn’t have the time; she needed to get back to Dean and Sam as when she’d left them, they didn’t appear to be doing too well against their opponents.

“Come on, I have to get you out of here before they come back.”

Her words sparked something inside of them as they all rushed out of their cages and followed behind her, their arms wrapped around themselves protectively and their eyes darting about in the darkness of the tunnels, as if expecting something to attack them. Hermione led the way and she realised that the fastest way to reach the exit was to go past the area she’d last seen Dean and Sam fighting the dragons, and that could cause some trouble.

As they neared, she could hear grunts and groans, growls and curses, and she knew they would need her help.

“Stay here and whatever happens, don’t move until someone comes to get you or unless you’re sure I’m dead.” She told them.

She didn’t wait for an answer, Hermione dashed around the corner with her wand in her hand, her eyes focusing in the poorly lit environment and seeing that Sam was sprawled on his back with one of the dragons kneeling beside him as they struggled over the machete. And then her eyes landed on Dean, seeing him pressed up against the wall with the other dragon stood before him, his hands around Dean’s throat and choking him, and the sword had fallen to the floor in Dean’s struggle.

And just like that night when Jane had threatened Dean’s life, something inside of her took over and she was no longer in control of her actions. It was as though she had left her body and she was standing on the sidelines, watching but not interfering.

Hermione spied the dagger on the other side of the room and she summoned it to her silently, catching it in her outstretched hand. With her right hand, she threw the dagger straight for the man that was slowly killing her husband, and with the left, she threw a _Stupefy_ at the one trying to kill Sam.

The man crumpled to the ground as the dagger lodged firmly in the man’s back and Dean’s body sagged to the floor, landing on his knees and rubbing at his windpipe with one hand and coughing loudly and the other hand was pressed to the floor, holding him up. With the combination of the Stunner and the distraction, Sam was able to get the upper hand and he plunged the machete through the man’s chest.

What felt like hours actually only took seconds to play out, and suddenly both men were on the ground, dead. Seeing that Sam was fine as he laid sprawled on his back and breathing heavily, Hermione gained control of herself and she rushed to Dean’s side. She dropped onto her knees in front of him, her hands going to his face. When he looked up at her, his eyes were watering from his coughing fit and his face was turning red. She lifted her wand and gently pressed it against his windpipe, casting a charm that would help with his airflow, and in a matter of seconds, his coughing stopped and he was hugging her to him tightly.

“I’m fine,” he muttered against her ear, as she silently cried into him and clung to him like her life depended on it.

“I told you I had a bad feeling about this,” she responded through a sniffle.

“Well, to be honest, we didn’t expect there to be two of them, and they were a lot stronger than they appeared, even Sammy couldn’t handle it. Thankfully we have your magic on our side when we need it the most.”

He pulled back from her, taking her face in his hands and swiping his thumbs across her cheekbones, catching the tears that fell from the corners of her eyes.

“You’re a pain in the arse,” she muttered.

He grinned. “I know.” She sighed and pressed her forehead against his. “By the way, Glinda, you’ve got one hell of an arm on you.”

She snorted. “You should see my right hook.”

He looked surprised by her comment. “That reminds me, we never did get around to physical combat,” he said thoughtfully. “We’ll have to start your training when we have our next respite.”

“No, we both know it’ll just end in sex.”

He grinned, looking rather pleased with her words. She rolled her eyes at him and he chuckled, before moving until he caught her mouth in a kiss. Her hands moved until they were both tangled in his hair, one of his hands slipped to the back of her neck, keeping her to him and the other slipped around her waist, slipping under her t-shirt and pressing against the small of her back.

“Err, guys!” Sam called, gaining their attention.

They pulled back from each other, turning to look at him and seeing that he was sitting up with his back pressed against the wall and he was watching them with amusement, as the group of women they’d just rescued, shuffled on their feet nervously and watched them, some with curiosity and some with a pink tinge to their cheeks, likely having heard their conversation.

“I’ll have to wipe their memories, they saw me use magic. We need a cover story.”

“Serial killer?” Dean offered, pulling back from her and standing, helping her to do the same.

“I suppose it’ll do. I’ll wipe their memories so they don’t remember us or how they escaped, you and Sam make sure you get the dagger, sword and machete, I’ll do a crime scene clean up once I’ve dealt with these.”

She approached the group of women, all of them different sizes, heights, ages and appearances, and in the blink of an eye, one by one, they each dropped to the ground as Hermione cast a mild Sleeping Charm, which would give her less than an hour to wipe and reform each of their memories whilst making sure that none of them were exactly similar to avoid suspicion. Victims remembered things differently and if every statement and account given matched perfectly, it would be suspicious and that’s what they wanted to avoid.

Five minutes before the group of women was to wake, Hermione pulled back from the final mind, panting and wiping at the sweat that was beading down her forehead. She stood on shaky limbs and turned to see Dean watching her worriedly.

“I’m fine,” she said tiredly, holding her hand up to stop him from approaching her. “I’d forgotten how tiring it is to do a routine mind wipe and reform of a muggle’s memories, particularly so many of them. I’ll be fine after a cup of tea and some food. It must be the early hours of the morning by now, do you think anywhere will be open for breakfast?”

Sam snorted at her and Dean shook his head, watching as she flicked her wand this way and that way, and the room glowed blue, letting them know Hermione’s magic had removed all evidence of them being there. Before the women woke, they made their way back through the maze of tunnels with Hermione continuing to erase their presence, until they reached the exit, they climbed into the car and they left, closing another case.


	73. Chapter 73

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

**One month later...**

“Alright, boys, pack up, we’ve got a case,” Hermione said, walking into Sam’s motel room, where he and Dean were waiting for her to return from retrieving breakfast since it was her turn that morning.

“Why?” Sam asked. “We’re supposed to be taking the weekend off for a little respite. We’ve finally cleared the backlog of cases we had from taking time off in London.”

“Respite’s over,” she replied, as Sam dramatically flopped onto his back on his bed with a groan and she rolled her eyes.

“Yours or ours?” Dean asked.

“Mine, Ricky arrived with a letter whilst I was on my way back from the diner, luckily no one saw him. I’ve sent him home for the time being.”

“It’s about time; we’ve had nothing but supernatural cases since we took out those dragons. I’m getting bored of ghosts and hauntings.” She raised an eyebrow. “So, what do we have?”

“I’m not sure yet, I’ve just been informed there’s been a remarkable amount of deaths in the last month, a total of twenty.”

“What’s remarkable about it?”

“All deaths took place in the victim’s homes, there was no sign of forced entry, there was no sign of any presence but the home occupants and there’s no sign of foul play. It’s as if their hearts just stopped. Their deaths have all been filed under natural causes.”

“And why does your government think it’s magical?”

“They sent someone to check out one of the victim’s body, and their magic spiked, but they’re not sure what caused it.”

“Which is where you come in,” Dean said in understanding.

“Yes, unfortunately, it means I’m going to have to complete twenty magical autopsies,” she rubbed at her temples. “I can already feel the headache beginning to form,” she groaned.

“Where are we headed?”

“Bloomington, Illinois,” she replied.

“That’s what? Three hundred miles?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam sighed. “Considering we’re in Cincinnati, Indiana, I’d say it’s about that, maybe a few miles less. Well, at least it’s not too long a drive; we should be able to make it there for not long after lunch.”

“Great, so we’ll eat breakfast, get packed and then we’re off.”

~000~000~000~

“Do you know what it is yet?” Dean asked, peering over her shoulder and watching the many different shaped and coloured lights dancing about as they hovered over the body of one of the victims.

They’d broken into the morgue again and with the help of Hermione’s magic, they’d done so without anyone even realising they were there. Sam was stood by the door, his eyes swerving between being the lookout and watching what Hermione was doing, both brothers not admitting it, but they were curious about a magical autopsy, not realising they were done differently to muggle autopsies.

“I think so, I’ve only examined four bodies but the results have all been conclusive and I don’t doubt they’d all be the same should I finish autopsying the rest of the bodies,” she sighed.

“Well that’s good because the coroner’s coming back,” Sam spoke.

Hermione quickly grabbed Dean’s hand and Sam’s arm when he was in reach and she spun on her heel, apparating them out of the room, just as the door opened.

~000~000~000~

“What did you find?” Sam asked, stepping into his motel room and moving over to his laptop, his intention to start doing some digging on the victims whilst Dean and Hermione followed him in.

“There’s no point in searching for a motive or any possible connections between victims.”

“Why not?” He frowned.

“There isn’t one, these attacks are completely random. I believe I’ve found everything I need to in order to identify the creature responsible.”

“And?” Dean asked.

Hermione moved to sit on the bed and she sighed.

“A magical autopsy is different to a muggle one in the sense that we can cast spells to determine the cause of death, rather than having to cut open and dissect the body. Rather than performing blood tests, we have spells that can detect most poisonous substances and potions. But we also have a spell that allows for us to examine the last form of magic or magical signature that was used on the body, though this is only a new spell and it’s still in its testing and development phase, at least for the magical signatures of witches and wizards. But anyway, I noticed that in the four victims I’d run tests on, the results were conclusive, they all showed high levels of the hormones that produce fear, and the significant stress on the heart caused it to stop.”

“Are you saying the victims were literally frightened to death?” Sam frowned.

“Yes, I am.”

“And what creature does that?” He asked, seeming to be thinking about the creatures he’d read about so far.

“A boggart.”

“A what?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

“A boggart and they’re not pleasant.” Hermione grimaced. “I met my first boggart when I was thirteen. Boggarts show you your greatest fear, you can’t hide it from them. They show you it and they make it so intense the fright kills you. Witches and wizards are able to defend against them, we have a better chance of surviving against muggles because we know what we’re dealing with, we know that what we’re being shown isn’t real, and we can fight back, but muggles don’t and can’t, which is why they’re dead. The boggart must’ve escaped or gotten lost. Boggarts like dark, cramped hiding spaces, like a wardrobe or a drawer.”

“How do we kill it?” Sam asked.

“That’s the thing, I’ve never actually heard of a boggart being killed, injured, yes, but not killed. But in order to capture it, we need to do the opposite of what it wants.”

“Meaning?” Dean said.

“What’s the opposite of fear?” They both appeared thoughtful. “Laughter. When we find it we need to show it that we’re not afraid of it, laughter hurts them and since there’s three of us, that gives us the advantage. Boggarts work by singling you out and finding your deepest, darkest fear, but if there’s more than one person...”

“It confuses it, because it won’t know who to focus on?” Sam guessed.

“That’s right,” Hermione nodded. “So, we find the boggart, we don’t give in to our fears, we laugh, I say the spell and trap it in a wooden chest, and then I drop it back off in the Wizarding World, where someone will take care of it. Sam, do you think you can try to map out the boggarts path, see if you can find its next destination? It seems to kill once every two days, making today that day.”

“I’ll try, just give me fifteen minutes.”

~000~000~000~

“You’re sure?” Hermione asked, looking up at the house that sat in front of her. There was nothing remarkable about it, it was the same as every other house on the street.

Sam nodded. “From what I could tell the deaths took place every two days, three blocks away from each other and on the last house on the street, which makes it this house.”

Hermione looked around, seeing that it was now late evening and it had long since grown dark, the street was quiet with no more than two lights on for each house, and due to the late hour, the houses that had children were likely already in bed. Hermione tapped her wand against the Impala, placing a Notice-Me-Not Charm on it, then she did the same for herself, Dean and Sam.

“Invisibility Spell?” Dean questioned.

“It’s not an Invis...Never mind,” she sighed, realising there was no point in correcting him, she’d been doing so for months now and he still got it wrong, though she suspected he did it on purpose to wind her up.

“Do weapons work on this thing?”

“No, and there’s only one known spell that will work.”

“Then I guess you’re in charge, Glinda.”

Before Hermione could speak, they heard a screaming coming from inside the house, followed by glass shattering. The three Winchesters wasted no time in rushing forward, Hermione waving her wand and the door burst open, slamming against the wall as they followed the sounds through the hallway, into the kitchen and down to the basement.

There, in the centre of the room, was a middle-aged woman on her hands and knees, screaming and crying heartbrokenly and Hermione could see why. The boggart had transformed itself into two young dead bodies, of what she guessed were the woman’s children.

Sam stepped forward, intending to get the woman out of the way, but the two children turned to him and quickly transfigured into a large, loud clown and he was rooted to the spot in fear. Despite the situation, Dean snorted and Hermione smacked him on the arm and glared at him.

Dean sighed, before moving around Sam and heading to the woman, trying to keep out of eyesight of the boggart, only it didn’t work. The clown that had been telling bad jokes, cackling and making balloon animals suddenly changed, until there were four figures, Sam, Bobby, Castiel and Hermione, all dead.

That wasn’t what surprised him, what did surprise him was that the men were all on the floor and looked to have been mauled to death by hellhounds, and Hermione was tied to a chair, lifeless but with a prominent bump to her stomach, displaying that she wasn’t long from giving birth to the baby she was obviously carrying. Their baby. He had the breath knocked out of him and he couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly another figure appeared, Crowley. He grinned at Dean, showing him the large silver knife in his hand before he stepped in front of the lifeless Hermione, and blood began to cover the floor as he cut away at her. And then there was a cry, and Crowley turned around to show Dean the little boy he had in his hands. His little boy who he’d cut out of Hermione’s womb. And then Crowley was walking away, leaving him with his dead brother, surrogate father, best friend and wife, and stealing the only thing he had left of Hermione.

Dean hadn’t realised he was crying until he felt hands on his shoulders, tugging him out of the way of the boggart. He felt his chest restricting and his lungs burned as he tried to force himself to breathe, realising that none of it was real. It was all a show, and if it hadn’t been for someone pulling him back, he knew he would’ve died constricted by the fear.

He wiped at his eyes, refusing to let anyone see him cry, but it was too late as both Hermione and Sam had seen and they were both horrified by what they’d witnessed.

Dean’s eyes landed on Hermione, seeing that she was stood in front of the boggart with her wand pointed and her arm shaking, looking as though she were having a mental battle with herself, and now that he could see her biggest fear he knew she was, just as he had been.

There was himself, stood before Hermione and he had another Hermione wrapped up in his arms, his hands resting on her growing stomach, signalling that she was pregnant. They were happy, and then suddenly blood pooled from Hermione, she was haemorrhaging. She lost the baby, she’d miscarried.

The image changed, showing a similar depiction of the last one, only this time they were wearing different clothes and they looked a little older. They looked happy, until blood began to pool, Hermione was haemorrhaging and she miscarried the baby. This showed itself a further three times before it changed imagery entirely.

This one showed an older Dean wrapped around a heavily pregnant woman that certainly wasn’t Hermione. This woman was blonde, with blue eyes, tanned skin and long legs.

 _“You’re a failure, Hermione. You couldn’t even give me a baby. Just one. I hate pie,”_ fake Dean said and he felt horror fill him.

He could see from where he stood Hermione’s form shaking as silent sobs wracked her body, he could only imagine what she was feeling and it was going to take him months to undo the damage the boggart had done to her psyche. If there was a way to kill the bastard for hurting Hermione, he’d find it.

Her arm was lowering, she was giving in to her fear, he couldn’t allow her to give up; she was stronger than that.

“I love pie!” Dean said loudly.

Hermione’s eyes snapped to him and he felt his chest tighten at seeing her puffy red eyes and her tears falling down her face. He felt a tear of his own fall down his cheek, not even realising that they hadn’t stopped from his time witnessing his own biggest fear. He hadn’t even known that was it!

“I love pie!” He repeated, his gaze locked on hers.

Sam was stood somewhat between the two of them, still looking horrified by what he’d witnessed; it put his fear of clowns to shame.

“I love pie,” she whispered before a steely look of determination entered her eyes and she took a breath and turned back to the boggart. “ _Riddikulus_!” she called.

Before their eyes, fake Dean transformed into a bad impression of Patrick Swayze, as he strutted over to the Impala and lovingly ran his hand over the car.

 _“Nobody puts Baby in the corner,”_ fake Dean cooed.

Dean blinked, Sam burst out laughing, falling back into the wall for support and Hermione’s sniffles had turned into sniggers. Dean, despite being shocked, felt amusement bubble in him at what she’d done. He couldn’t deny she had style.

“That’s brilliant!” Sam laughed loudly, bringing his hands up to his ribs as if they hurt from laughing.

Hermione’s sniggers turned into laughter until she was crying for an entirely different reason.

“ _Riddikulus_!” She called for the final time, and the boggart flew across the room until it landed in the empty wooden trunk she’d pulled out of her pocket. She cast Locking Charms on the trunk before shrinking it down and placing it back in her pocket.

Dean was across the room in seconds, taking her in his arms and hugging her to him tightly, whilst Sam went to the cowering woman in the corner of the room, trying to convince her that she was safe.

“It wasn’t real,” Dean muttered, feeling his own tears from what he’d witnessed beginning to resurface at even thinking about what he’d been shown.

“None of it was,” she added for his benefit.

“I love pie,” he said.

“I love pie, too.”

“And I’d never leave you. I’d never choose someone else over you. You’re the only one. And we both know we can have children, you’ve gotten confirmation from the hospital and Cas, we just have to wait.”

She sighed, fighting back her tears. “And I’d never left Crowley do that. I’d never let him anywhere near our children, hypothetical and not. He’d be dead before even laying his eyes on them.”

“Guys, I’m really sorry to interrupt,” Sam spoke, genuinely sounding apologetic, knowing they needed to talk after what they’d just witnessed. “But I could use a little help here,” he gestured to the middle-aged woman, who was now rocking back and forth and muttering to herself.

“I’ll take care of it,” Hermione said, pulling back from Dean and moving until she kneeled down in front of the woman.

Hermione dove into her mind, quickly altering her memories, removing the memories and the knowledge of the presence of Hermione, Dean and Sam, and what she’d seen regarding the boggart and magic, and also convincing the woman that it was just a nightmare.

She pulled back, happy with her work and the woman would come back to herself in a few minutes so they quickly left the house.

“I need to head to The American Ministry and drop this off and fill out the paperwork, I’ll be back as soon as I can but don’t wait up,” she said, giving them a small smile before turning and apparating, leaving them alone.

~000~000~000~

“What are you still doing up?” Hermione questioned, after landing in her room from her return from The American Ministry.

Dean shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep,” he muttered.

Hermione sighed before putting her wand on the bedside table, stripping out of her clothes and down to her underwear, leaving them in a mess on the floor; she’d clean it up in the morning.

She climbed into bed and Dean wasted no time in pulling her into him, lifting his hand and tugging her hair out of the bun she’d put it in whilst at The Ministry and his hand quickly delved into her hair, the curls tangling around his fingers as he massaged her scalp, knowing that it made her feel sleepy.

“I love pie, and everything I said to you at the house I meant,” he said quietly.

“And everything I said I meant too, I love pie,” she replied.

“You’re not a failure. When our soon to be baby decides it’s time for us to stop waiting, then it’ll happen. Just remember, Sweetheart, we’ve only actively been trying for three months and you’ve only had two cycles since then. We’ll have our baby sooner or later. I promise.”

They fell silent and when Hermione was on the very edge of falling asleep, she spoke.

“So, do you want to go back to boring ghosts and hauntings yet?”

He snorted. “No, though I do have a newfound appreciation for you and the scary shit you deal with,” he fed her words back to her from all those months ago, and she felt a smile tug at her mouth.


	74. Chapter 74

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

**Two weeks later...**

“Case?”

“Yes,” Hermione replied, turning her eyes to Sam as she entered their motel room after returning from retrieving breakfast for them.

“It’s not another boggart, it is?” Dean asked, looking apprehensive.

No one had mentioned the boggart since that night, but they all knew it changed their perspectives of the world, and it changed their opinions of each other, but for the better. It put both Dean and Hermione on their guard and it made the brothers realise just how dangerous the creatures from the Wizarding World could be.

“No, I think you’re going to like this one. As long as you don’t make any sudden movements, you’ll be fine.”

“Okay, now I’m intrigued. What are we dealing with?” Sam questioned, leaning forward with his arms on the table.

“Well, for the first time in your lives, we’re not going to kill something. Our target isn’t a killer.” They frowned in confusion. “We’ve been tasked with finding a herd of lost creatures. It’s believed there is to be three missing and one of them may be injured. Our job is to find them and return them to the Wizarding World. That’s it. No killing, no criminals and no deaths. You were complaining that we haven’t had a respite in two months, well, this case _is_ your respite.”

“What creature are we dealing with?” Dean asked, eyeing the look on her face warily.

“You’ll see, it’s a surprise,” she grinned. “Now, hurry up and eat breakfast, I’ve been given the last known location of the herd before they disappeared, we’ll have to follow their trail and hopefully before morning. They prefer to come out at night.”

~000~000~000~

“Are we even going the right way?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Hermione replied with a sigh.

“I’m sure we’ve passed that tree twice already,” he said, pointing to a large tree at the left as they hiked through the thick woods.

“No, we haven’t, you’re referring to the tree that we passed half a mile back, that tree had lower branches.”

“Yeah, well...”

“Sammy, she’s going to smack you,” Dean warned amused, eyeing the way Hermione was gripping her wand tightly and she had an annoyed look on her face at Sam’s constant questioning and complaining.

“She wouldn’t smack me, I’m her friend and little brother through marriage,” he said smugly.

“Yeah, and I’m her husband. She smacked me this morning for using the rest of her toothpaste, though it’s not like she doesn’t have another thirty tubes in her bag,” he rolled his eyes.

“I heard that!” Hermione called from her place a little ways in front of them. Sam sniggered whilst Dean didn’t bother to look apologetic. “And yes, we’re going the right way.”

“How do you know?” Sam barely contained the whiny tone.

Hermione bent down and scooped something up onto her finger, turning around and showing it to them in the low light of the slowly setting sun. The silver goo was sparkling like rainbows.

“What’s that?” He asked with a frown.

“Blood, as I said, one of them is injured and we need to find them before nightfall. These woods open onto the main road and we can’t risk them crossing it and getting killed.”

“You’re still not going to tell us what we’re looking for?” Dean asked.

“No, but I promise you, this will blow your mind.”

~000~000~000~

“Why are we stopping?” Sam asked.

Hermione had suddenly stopped in her walking, her eyes searching the area lit by her wand and the brothers’ torches, and she strained her hearing. She felt a wave of powerful magic pulse around her, swarming in the atmosphere, making her feel warm and relaxed.

“This is it, this is where we need to be,” she said.

She dug into her beaded bag, before pulling out two apples and placing them on the ground, she then pulled the brothers until they were hidden behind a large tree.

“Why did you do that?” Dean asked.

“Just watch and be quiet and still, we don’t want to scare it,” she whispered, peeking her head around the tree.

They looked at her curiously before doing the same as her.

They waited ten minutes before they saw it and their eyes widened when it came into their view. It could’ve easily been mistaken for a white foal, only there was a small horn in the centre of its head, it had a silver mane and tail, and upon closer inspection, it wasn’t white, but a grey-silver when the moon shone through the trees and reflected off the service.

“Oh My God!” Dean muttered. “It’s a fucking...”

“Unicorn,” Sam whispered and when Hermione turned to look at him, she thought he looked as though he were going to faint. She bit her tongue to stop herself from laughing at him.

“A female unicorn. That’s what we’ve been tracking. Two females and one male, they got separated from their herd and passed into the Muggle World by accident. Unicorns are the purest creatures in existence. If you’re careful, young unicorns will allow you to interact with them, whereas adults don’t, though they tend to prefer women over men.”

She turned her attention back to the young unicorn, watching as it ate the apple she’d put on the ground, and then it moved onto the second one.

“I’m going to approach it; I want to see if I can earn its trust. Don’t make a sound and don’t move until I say so, I don’t want you to startle it. It might accidentally injure me with its horn, despite the size of it, it’s still pointy.”

Hermione slowly stepped out from behind the tree and the unicorn’s head snapped up the moment she did so. Hermione smiled, before reaching into her bag, pulling out another apple and she rolled it across the floor. It stopped when it hit against the unicorn’s hoof, it lowered its head and sniffed at the apple, before eating it. Hermione took a step closer and gave it another apple, and she continued to do so until she was almost in front of it.

This time she held out her hand with the apple sat in her palm, the unicorn took the apple from her hand and she smiled brightly. Once the unicorn had finished eating, it sniffed at her hand, taking a step forward to sniff at her stomach, then at her neck and then her head and it made a neighing sound, before lowering its head in an offer for her to pet it.

Hermione slowly lifted her hand and placed it against the unicorn’s nose, feeling it press into her hand more firmly. Hermione smiled and started petting it.

“I know you’re not alone,” she said softly. “I know you have your friends with you. I know you’re hungry, I know you’re lost and I know one of your friends is hurt. I just want to get you home to your herd, where your mothers and fathers are waiting for you. Will you allow me to help your friend, to give you food and to take you home?” She asked.

The unicorn turned and walked away, disappearing into the trees and Hermione’s hopes were dashed, until she heard the sounds of twigs breaking under a heavyweight and three unicorns stepped out of the trees and into the moonlight. The male unicorn was the largest, and Hermione could see that he was bleeding from a wound on his right side, just above his underbelly.

“Hello, my name’s Hermione,” she said softly.

She dug into her beaded bag and pulled out two apples, rolling them across the floor until they stopped in front of the two newcomers. Whilst they sniffed at them, the other unicorn came to stand by her side. Before she knew it, the others were only a step behind the other one. If she reached out she could touch them, so she offered them another apple, sitting one in each of her hands and they each took it from her.

“It’s nice to meet you. As I said to your friend, I would like to heal you, I would like to feed you and then I would like to take you home. I know your parents are worried about you and they miss you. Will you let me do that?”

The three unicorns seemed to look at each other, as if communicating through their thoughts, before they all gave a neigh, of what she guessed was agreement.

She smiled. “Wonderful, before I offer you more food and I take a look at your injury, I would like to introduce you to some people. They’re not going to hurt you, they’re here to help just like I am, though be kind to them, they’re muggles and they’ve never seen a unicorn before, we don’t want them fainting,” she whispered the last part, and she would swear she heard a strange sound of laughter from the three unicorns.

“Dean, Sam, you can come out now,” she called softly.

She watched as they stepped out from behind the tree slowly and they approached with nervous looks on their faces. The three unicorns took a step back and made a noise of warning and Sam and Dean immediately stopped in their steps.

Hermione walked over to them, looped her arms through theirs and pulled on them until they took another step forward.

“I know they’re men and you generally don’t trust them, but this is Dean, my husband, and Sam, my brother-in-law. They take very good care of me and they’re good men. Don’t you think so? Why don’t you see for yourself?” She said.

She took their hands in hers and held them out, allowing the two female unicorns the chance to analyse the brothers’ characters on their own terms. The females slowly stepped forward and sniffed at their hands, before nudging them with their noses. They then stepped closer, sniffing at their stomachs, and since they couldn’t reach their necks and heads like they could for Hermione, she motioned for the brothers to bend slightly and they did.

The unicorns took a long while sniffing at their necks, before moving to their heads, and then they stepped back, looking bored.

“I told you they were good men,” she said smiling before she dug into her beaded bag and pulled out two full bags of apples, handing one each to the brothers.

“Now your sudden apple craving makes sense,” Dean muttered.

“Craving?” Sam said incredulously. “She bought out three gas stations, two convenience stores _and_ the entire supply from the diner,” Sam said amused.

“Dean and Sam will gladly feed you while I tend to your friend’s injury,” Hermione told the unicorns, ignoring the brothers’ words.

She turned to see the male already perched on the ground with his legs folded underneath him and giving her access to the wound, as if knowing she was going to ask him to do that. She shook her head and slowly approached, kneeling down beside him and placing a pile of apples by his mouth to keep him distracted.

“I’m going to do my best not to hurt you too much, but I can’t guarantee it will be successful,” she warned softly, before pulling her wand and turning her attention to the wound.

It wasn’t a large wound and to be honest, she wasn’t even sure what the cause could be. So rather than wasting time trying to figuring it out, she set about healing the wound. She cast a spell to siphon off the blood before she took out some Essence of Murtlap and lathered the wound in it, later covering it with gauze and bandages, knowing that once the bleeding had stopped the unicorn’s healing capabilities would kick in and speed up the process.

“There, all done, and once you’ve had your fill of the apples we can start on our journey to get you home. I’m hoping we can get you there before sunrise.”

~000~000~000~

It had taken an hour for the unicorns to finally stop eating the apples, of which Hermione was glad since they didn’t have many left, and Sam hadn’t been joking about the amount of apples she’d bought, if she had to estimate, it may have been a little under one hundred bags.

They’d been walking for the last five hours, Hermione leading the way with the male unicorn beside her, and Sam and Dean a little ways behind with a unicorn each by their sides.

If you asked them what they thought they’d be doing with their lives when they were children, they may have said hunting, but they never would’ve said walking through the woods with fucking unicorns!

“I promise, we’re almost there and a good job, too, sunrise isn’t far off,” Hermione said to the unicorn beside her and he brushed his nose against her cheek affectionately.

Hermione giggled and Dean’s chest tightened at the sound. He felt a nudge at his side and looked to see his unicorn watching him; he chuckled, before lifting his hand and running it over the unicorn’s nose.

They continued walking for another half an hour and then they reached their destination. To anyone else, it looked like two trees that had grown in such a way that it made an arch, but to Hermione and the unicorns, they knew otherwise.

“Would you like me to come with you?” Hermione asked. The three unicorns nodded their heads in confirmation and Hermione smiled in reply.

“I’ll be right back,” she told the brothers, before stepping through the arch with the male unicorn by her side.

The two female unicorns stayed behind a little longer. Dean’s looked at him dead in the eye, making him feel as though it were reading his every thought and looking deep into his very soul. It nudged at his stomach, before lowering its head, wanting him to pet its nose.

Sam’s unicorn turned away from him after saying goodbye and stepped through the archway. His unicorn -which had interacted with Hermione first- stepped back and looked to the archway, before turning its eyes back to him.

_‘Do not worry, you are a good man and good things come to those who wait. I can see all that you have suffered for the world, and I know the suffering that continues to plague you. You wish for nothing but your mate’s happiness and safety, whereas most wish for fame, fortune and the world. You do not. You wish for your mate and future children to be safe from the one you call Crowley. It will be a long road ahead, but they will be. And they’ll be happy and loved.’_

The unicorn lowered its head and pressed the tip of its horn into Dean’s palm, making a pinpoint incision and a small drop of blood fell out, before the little hole was gone as if it never happened. Dean hadn’t even noticed the unicorn’s actions.

_‘Do not worry, for I know it is destined that you and your mate bring another generation of good into the world. It may not happen today, it may not happen in a year’s time, but it will happen, I have seen it. Thank you for helping my family return home, goodbye, Dean Winchester, Hunter, Brother, Son, Husband and destined Father. Goodbye, Friend.’_

Dean froze. Did the fucking unicorn just talk to him telepathically? He thought _._

He would swear the unicorn winked at him, before turning and going through the archway.

“What’s the matter with you?” Sam came over, clapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.

Dean blinked several times. “I swear to God, the unicorn spoke to me,” he said.

Sam burst out laughing. “Don’t be an idiot,” he snorted.

“Why’s Dean being an idiot?” Hermione asked, as she stepped out of the archway, drawing their attention to her.

“He said the unicorn spoke to him,” Sam answered her, still laughing and Dean glared at him.

Hermione’s eyes snapped to Dean, and much to his surprise, they were wide and filled with awe. “She did?” She questioned quietly.

Dean nodded, eyeing her warily.

“Merlin!” She whispered. “Do you have any idea how rare that is? It’s said that unicorns have telepathic tendencies, allowing them to communicate with each other, but on some rare occasions, they have been known to communicate with someone they deem worthy, someone they believe is truly kind-hearted and good. Someone they believe is destined for great things; that will do great things, and that has done great things.”

Sam’s laughter had stopped and he was blinking dumbly, his eyes going between Hermione and Dean.

“What did she say to you?”

Dean opened his mouth to answer her, but no sound came out.

“Oh bugger, I forgot, you can’t repeat it,” she sighed. “Was if something positive, good?”

He nodded. “Good, it was very good,” he replied, giving her a look she didn’t quite understand, but she smiled anyway.

“Well boys, we better get going, I believe we all deserve some rest. We’ve been on our feet for twenty-four hours straight, let’s go.” She spun on her heel and started walking in the opposite direction.

“Best case ever!” Sam said to Dean, as they followed behind her, and Dean found himself nodding in agreement whilst the unicorn’s words were playing in his mind. “The Wizarding World is...”

“Awesome,” Dean cut him off. “It’s awesome.”


	75. Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

**Three months later...**

It was three months after the unicorn case and since then, they’d continued with their hunting and travelling, they’d taken a couple of days off as respite in order for Hermione, Dean and Sam to return to England long enough for them to visit with The Potters, Malfoys and Weasley families, in which the children had spent more time with Dean and Sam than Hermione, but she didn’t complain, it was nice to see them so accepting of their new family members, they even called them “Uncle Dean” and “Uncle Sam,” which came as a shock to the brothers.

After a few days they returned to America, hunting and travelling, until a month later when Hermione had to return to England to help with her part in training the new recruits and calling another quarterly meeting with those that worked for her department. They’d spent just under a week in England, of which Dean and Sam were quickly beginning to think of as a third home, with Hermione’s apartment and Bobby’s salvage yard in first and second place respectively.

They spent time with the family, they’d attended a Sunday dinner at The Burrow in which every family member was there, allowing the brothers a chance to finally meet Claire, Hugo and Rose, and it had been a shock to their system seeing so many people in one place. Due to the number of people in attendance, they’d been forced to have dinner outside and since the weather hadn’t been particularly nice that day, it was done under the marquee they’d used for Bill’s and Fleur’s wedding all those years ago.

They returned to America and continued with their hunting, and three months later, they were taking the weekend off after closing several cases in the last week alone, and they were spending it at the Cambridge Apartment.

During the last three months, Dean’s mind had been filled with nothing but the unicorn’s words regarding the future of his family, and although he knew they were going to have children, it didn’t stop him from feeling disappointment when Hermione’s menstrual cycle started every month. They’d been actively trying for a baby for six months, and it still hadn’t happened.

When he thought about it he couldn’t believe it, he and Hermione had been together for almost eight months. That was just four months shy of a year! His longest-lasting and happiest relationship. They had their ups and downs, they had their arguments and teasing, they had their disagreements and makeups, but he loved her and he was happy. The same couldn’t be said a year ago.

Dean walked through the halls of the apartment, coming to a stop at the open door of the potions lab and he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, watching as Hermione was lost in her own little bubble as she stood over a cauldron, making God knows what.

He’d caught her making a potion once before and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the sight of it, of seeing Hermione in her element, completely at ease as she prepared ingredients diligently, as she added the ingredients to the potion with a little frown on her face, as she peered over the cauldron, the steam wreaking havoc on her hair and stirring the potion in well-timed motions. She made it look so easy and effortless, though he knew it wasn’t; he’d taken one look at her potions book and put it back on the shelf.

They’d only arrived at the apartment less than an hour ago and he wasn’t surprised the first place he’d find her was in her potions lab, she loved it as much as she did her library. She was still dressed in her boots, jeans and t-shirt, only now she had on black robes which were left open, her hair had poofed up until it looked like a lion’s mane that surrounded her face and he bit back his laugh, knowing she’d likely hex him for laughing at the mass on her head.

“You’re staring,” Hermione said softly, not looking at him or taking her attention away from the potion she was stirring.

“I’m allowed, you’re a sight to behold,” he shrugged.

She snorted. “Yeah, and my hair’s not a fluff ball either.”

“Well I wasn’t going to mention the hair, but since you brought it up...” She turned her eyes to him and glared. “Just kidding,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. She narrowed her eyes, before turning back to her potion. “What are you making?”

He knew better than to go into her potions lab, knowing she’d kill him or he’d get himself killed by touching something he shouldn’t, so he stayed by the doorway.

“Blood Replenisher, I’ve used the last of my stores.”

Dean winced. “Yeah, I admit that last case was bad.”

“Bad? You were stabbed and Sam was shot, I was only gone twenty bloody minutes. Honestly, I can’t leave the two of you alone,” she scowled.

He shrugged. “You healed us and we’re both fine now.”

She chose not to comment.

“Where’s Sam?”

“The last I saw, in his room arguing with Mittens over dirty laundry,” Dean answered.

Hermione snorted. “He’s not going to win; I’ve had that argument many times.”

“I can imagine; I just let the little elf get on with it, if he’s anything like Mimsy I’m not going to argue.”

Hermione smirked. “You’re frightened of her?” She questioned.

“Terrified,” he admitted with a nod.

“Smart man,” she laughed.

“Are you coming to bed? It’s getting late.”

She nodded. “Just give me five minutes to stabilise the potion for the night.”

~000~000~000~

“I’m exhausted,” Hermione sighed, slipping into bed and Dean pulled her into him, wrapping her up in his arms. “Hands to yourself,” she grumbled, feeling his hands beginning to wander.

“But it’s been two days,” he mumbled.

“We’ve gone longer,” she rolled her eyes, biting her lip and holding in her gasp when his hand slipped under her t-shirt to toy with the waistband of her knickers.

“Not by choice,” he said childishly and his hand slipped below the fabric, moving down to her centre. Hermione shut her eyes tightly and....

They heard the sound of the floo roar to life in the living room. Hermione pushed Dean away from her and sat up, reaching for her wand and casting a Time Charm, seeing that it wasn’t far off from being twelve o’clock in the morning. Dean had reached over to the bedside table and grabbed his gun. She rolled her eyes.

“You don’t need that; there’s only a handful of people that are able to enter the apartment through the floo.”

“HERMIONE! ARE YOU HERE!”

“Ginny?” Hermione frowned, before climbing out of bed and quickly making her way to the living room, with Dean following behind her and they met Sam on their journey.

“Oh thank Merlin!” Ginny sighed when she saw Hermione enter into the living room. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here or if you’d be away hunting.”

Hermione frowned, seeing that Ginny’s face looked a little red, as did her eyes and her cheeks looked as though tears had dried on them. She wasn’t dressed in pyjamas, which she found odd given that it was almost five o’clock in London.

Ginny’s attention was momentarily held by Dean, seeing as he was only dressed in his boxers, where Sam was wearing a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, and Hermione herself was only clad in one of Dean’s t-shirts.

“Ginny, what’s the matter?” Hermione asked, pulling Ginny’s attention and she walked over to her, pulling her into a hug when tears began to fall from Ginny’s eyes.

“Hermione, you know I wouldn’t normally ask but...”

“You want me to watch the children,” Hermione said knowingly, pulling back from Ginny and the brothers shuffled on their feet nervously at seeing the red-haired witch crying. “Have you had another argument?” She asked softly. Ginny nodded. “Of course we’ll watch the children. We’re only back for the weekend, but we’ll put any cases on hold should we be called. You and Harry take as long as you need to sort things out.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” she whispered. “Normally I’d ask mum, but she’s not as young as she used to be.” Hermione nodded in understanding. “I’ll bring them through.”

Ginny disappeared into the floo and Hermione turned to face the brothers, both of them frowning.

“Harry and Ginny have had a big argument, it happens maybe once a year, but they’ll sort it out, they always do. Until then James, Albus and Lily will be staying here.” She pushed her hair back from her face, still frizzy from the humidity in the potions lab. “Sorry that your respite’s going to be interrupted.”

Sam shrugged. “We’re still on respite, only now we’re spending it with children, at least they’ll be no chance of boredom.”

Hermione snorted. “You’re not wrong there, you have to have eyes in the back of your head with those three; they’ve got Marauders blood in them.” They both looked confused. “Remind me to tell you about the Marauders and their antics at Hogwarts during the seventies; Minerva swears they almost sent her into early retirement.”

They raised their eyebrows but never had the chance to reply as the floo roared to life, revealing Ginny, a sleeping Lily in her arms and two very sleepy little boys. The children were still dressed in their pyjamas and Ginny held a shrunken down bag in her hand, though Hermione knew it wouldn’t contain much, seeing as she had some of the children’s belongings in the apartment for when she watched them for the night so Harry and Ginny could have some time alone together.

“Thank you, Hermione,” Ginny said, putting the bag down onto the table and handing Lily over to her.

“It’s not a problem, Gin, you know how much I love having the children here,” she smiled.

“Any chance of your own soon?” She asked Hermione softly.

“We’re working on it,” Dean replied, leaning against the couch with his arms crossed and Ginny nodded in reply.

She bent down and kissed her sons on their heads and they sleepily protested.

“Be good for your Aunt and Uncles,” she told them, before she disappeared into the flames, leaving the three adults and the three children alone.

“Come on then, my little wizards, let’s get you back to bed,” Hermione spoke. “Sam, Dean, would you mind?” She nodded to James and Albus, and they nodded in reply.

Sam went over to James and picked him, and Dean did the same for Albus. Both boys wrapped their arms around their necks, with their heads buried against their shoulders and Hermione smiled at the sight.

She led the way out of the living room and down the hallway, stopping in front of the wall. The brothers looked at her confused, when much to their surprise, a door suddenly appeared and they blinked as Hermione opened it. The brothers stepped in after her, surprised to see that the room appeared to be a nursery for children. It was decorated in pale yellow with a white carpet and white furniture, and moving images of magical creatures adorned the walls as they pranced about. The brothers recognised the unicorns and dragons, but not the others.

A small bed was against one wall, whilst another was against the wall opposite and a crib sat in the middle of them. There were two chests of drawers beside each other, and a changing station on the wall opposite. A wooden toy chest sat beneath the charmed window, along with two children’s sized rocking chairs, and a door on the left wall was open showing the small bathroom.

The brothers looked to Hermione in surprise over having no previous knowledge of the existence of the room before being shown it just now. Hermione had moved to the crib, placing Lily down carefully and covering her with the soft blanket. The brothers shook their heads and followed Hermione’s example, Dean moving over to the bed on the right which had Albus’ name inscribed on the headboard, and Sam moving to the bed on the left which had James’ name inscribed on the headboard. By the time the boys had been covered with their blankets, they were both asleep.

Hermione kissed their foreheads and left the room, closing the door behind her.

“Why didn’t we know that was there?” Sam asked her.

“Security. This building has more security than bloody Fort Knox, and it’s not far off from Hogwarts and Gringotts, but I have enemies, people that want me to suffer, people that want me dead. I watch the children a few times a year for Harry and Ginny, and I do the same for my other nieces and nephews, the names on the beds change depending on the children staying here, and if there is no need for a crib, it’ll transfigure into a bed. Lily should be in a bed given her age, but she can’t be trusted in a bed alone when she’s here. Despite the security on the building, I wanted to take extra precautions and I turned the children’s nursery into a panic room that can only be accessed by myself if the wards are breached. When not in use it remains hidden, and when it is in use, it’ll only be hidden if there’s a break-in.”

They blinked.

“Mimsy,” Hermione called softly.

She appeared before Hermione, bowing.

“Mistress, Master, Mr. Sam. What cans Mimsy do for yous?”

“Mimsy, just a warning, James, Albus and Lily are staying here for a few days.”

Mimsy positively lit up, clapping her hands together and jumping up and down in excitement.

“Mimsy loves the childrens, oh, Mimsy makes sures the children’s favourites foods made, Mimsy make them herself,” she said, before popping out of the room.

“Well that was a different side of her,” Dean said stunned at the little elf’s behaviour.

“Yeah, Mimsy loves children,” Hermione said softly. “Before I rescued her she used to be a Nanny house-elf. She’s been begging me to have children for years,” she said sadly, before turning and walking away. 

~000~000~000~

Dean was woken by a kick to his stomach; he made a groaning sound before he opened his eyes, almost falling out of bed at the sight that met him. He’d been expecting to wake up to Hermione held in his arms, as usual. But that’s not what met him. Instead, he woke up to see Albus, facing him and snoring away as he twitched in his sleep, once more kicking him in the stomach.

Dean frowned, lifting up slightly to see James next to Albus, also snoring and facing Hermione who was on the other side of the bed, far away from him. Dean sat up, leaning against the headboard and he rubbed his hands over his face, yawning.

He turned his eyes to Hermione, seeing that she had a peaceful smile on her face as James burrowed closer to her, shuffling until he was pressed up against Hermione, likely searching for warmth. Albus made a noise of annoyance at being jostled before he shuffled closed to Dean, pressing himself up against his side.

Dean looked around the bed, feeling his mouth twitch at the sight, but then his attention was pulled when he heard a cry. He frowned, looking down to Hermione and seeing that she hadn’t moved. Remembering Lily, he climbed out of bed and made his way to the nursery, the door magically opening for him. He walked over to the crib, seeing the almost two-year-old standing up and holding onto the sides of the crib. She had her father’s green eyes and her mother’s red hair, and when her eyes locked onto his, Dean felt his whole body relaxing and his heart melting.

Dean couldn’t explain it, he liked all the kids, well he supposed they were his nieces and nephews now, and though he did like them all, there was just something different about Lily and Scorpius. Likely because they were the youngest of the children and he knew he’d get to see them grow, whereas the other children he’d only just met and he’d already missed their growth and development. Scorpius and Lily reminded him of what he was in for once Hermione finally fell pregnant, and with them being so young, it allowed him the opportunity to develop his baby handling skills.

Dean yawned once more before removing Lily from the crib and carrying her back to his and Hermione’s bedroom, knowing from the sky outside it was still early and he got the feeling Hermione and the children wouldn’t be awake for a little while longer.

He climbed back into bed, sitting Lily on his lap and allowing her to entertain herself by holding on to his hands and clapping them together. Looking at the occupants of the bed once more, he felt a smile pull at his mouth.

Maybe fatherhood wouldn’t be so bad.


	76. Chapter 76

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 13

“So, what do you want to do today?” Hermione asked the children as they sat around the kitchen table eating breakfast, whilst Lily was sat on Dean’s lap, currently making a mess by putting her hands in the milk she’d spilt.

Hermione chuckled, before vanishing the mess and Lily frowned.

“The park!” The boys chimed together and Hermione shook her head.

“I thought you’d say that,” she chuckled. “Alright, let’s get you three cleaned up and then we’ll go to the park.”

“Can we go in Uncle Dean’s car?” James asked, looking hopeful.

“You’ll have to ask him,” Hermione said.

James turned to Dean. “Can we Uncle Dean? Can we please?” He all but begged, looking at him pleadingly.

Dean felt amusement bubble in his chest. He had to admit, James was the spitting double of his father with his black messy hair and green eyes, whereas Albus had his father’s messy hair but his mother’s brown eyes.

“I suppose so,” he replied.

Both James and Albus cheered loudly before they climbed off their seats and ran from the room.

“You’re going to willingly let three children in Baby?” Sam asked disbelievingly.

Dean shrugged. “You’ve got to admit, they’re cute.”

Sam stared at him, what had happened to his brother? Was the man in front of him an imposter? Sam felt the strong urge to stab him with a silver knife and dowse him in holy water. 

“Car seats?” Dean asked, turning to look at Hermione.

“I’ll transfigure some,” she nodded. “We’ll easily be able to fit them in the car with the Expansion Charm I used on the back seat.”

~000~000~000~

“James, be careful, if I have to tell you one more time you’ll be coming away and sitting on my knee!” Hermione warned the now six-year-old, as he fearlessly jumped off the top of the small children’s slide.

Hermione admitted that it was no bigger than the plastic ones you bought for the garden from the shop, but he could still hurt himself. She was only glad he was using the bigger slide properly.

“Okay!” He shouted back over the noise of the other screaming and laughing children in the park.

Thankfully it was a warm day so Hermione wasn’t freezing her arse off whilst she sat perched on the bench, watching James’ and Albus’ every move carefully. Sam was sat on her left and Dean was sat on her right with Lily sitting on his lap, she was too busy playing with Dean’s fingers and hands to even contemplate wanting to play in the little sandbox nearby, and Hermione had offered to take her there, but she’d responded with a clear, “No,” much to the brothers’ amusement. Hermione was both proud and saddened that Lily’s speech was improving by the day; she was proud for obvious reasons, but saddened as it meant she was growing up.

“Albus, don’t you even think about it!” She called over to the now four-year-old, watching as he picked up a handful of mud and grass, and Hermione knew his intention was to throw it at his brother.

Albus jumped and quickly dropped the mud and the grass to the floor, before turning towards her and looking at her innocently. Hermione scowled, Dean chuckled and Sam laughed.

“They’re a handful,” Sam said.

She sighed. “I told you, you need to have eyes in the back of your head for those little devils. You should see Fred, I swear, that child is both of the twins combined when we were growing up.” They chuckled at her.

Her eyes fell down to Dean’s lap when she saw Lily reaching out for her. Hermione smiled and took her from Dean, but by the time she’d sat her on her lap, Lily was reaching out to the left where Sam was sat. Hermione scowled, before reluctantly handing Lily over to her brother-in-law, pouting in her sulk. Dean chuckled, before putting his arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple.

“Relax, Sweetheart, she probably just misses her dad. Sammy and I are the closest to that since we’re men.”

She blinked in surprise; that was surprisingly intuitive for someone who claimed they didn’t have a clue on how to raise a child or how to hold a baby correctly.

Hermione’s eyes were drawn to the right and past Dean, seeing the crowd of mothers gathered and they looked to be gossiping. Hermione caught some of them looking at Dean and the rest were looking at Sam, and Hermione thought they were likely gushing over their looks, but then their eyes cut to her, and suddenly she put the pieces together and everything made sense.

“Albus! James! Cover your ears!” She called.

“Why!” They both shouted, stopping in their game of tag to look at her.

“Because I said so!”

The boys frowned before covering their ears with their hands. Hermione looked to Sam and he appeared to be amused by whatever she was going to do, especially if it required that the children’s ears have to be covered. Before Hermione could turn her simmering anger on him, he covered Lily’s ears, though she found it hilarious and giggled the entire time.

“What are you up to, Sweetheart?” Dean asked, seeing her narrowed eyes and the direction they were aimed at.

Hermione pursed her lips, before standing up and turning towards the women, seeing their eyes widen at having obviously been caught in their staring.

“Listen up, you judgemental bitches,” she said coldly, the women didn’t do well hiding their surprise and Dean and Sam didn’t do well in hiding their amusement. “The man on my left is my brother-in-law and the man on my right is my husband. And the three children you can see are our niece and nephews, and not that it’s any of your business but we’re looking after them for a few days. If there weren’t so many children present I would come over there and slap each and every one of you. Keep your judgemental looks and spiteful words to yourself for I do not care for them. I sincerely hope your children don’t turn out to be such judgemental arseholes, let’s hope they follow in their fathers’ footsteps, shall we?” They didn’t reply, but she wasn’t expecting them to. “Lovely, now piss off, should I feel your eyes looking in this direction or hear your words, I’ll bloody break your noses, at least it’d be an improvement on the botched nose jobs your surgeons gave you; they mustn’t like you either.”

Hermione sat back down, feeling much better about getting her anger out and hearing their gasps of outrage. Sam and Dean were shaking in silent laughter, whilst Hermione silently fumed.

“Shit, Hermione!” Sam mumbled.

She took a deep breath and then sat back, signalling that the boys could uncover their ears. She expected them to continue with their playing, but they didn’t, instead, they ran over to her.

“What did you do, Aunt ‘Mione?” James asked.

“I didn’t do anything, James,” she replied.

Much to her surprise and the brothers’ amusement, the six-year-old and the four-year-old looked at her disbelievingly.

“Dad said that when we have to cover our ears, it’s because you’re going to say some bad words,” James said.

That broke the dam for the brothers and they burst into laughter, not bothered by Hermione’s glare of warning. Hermione sighed; realising there was no getting out of the situation she was in, at least without explaining it to the young children in front of her.

“Listen, boys, sometimes you’re going to meet people in the world that aren’t very nice, everyone has their own opinions and views, and they’re unable to keep them to themselves. Those ladies over there weren’t being very nice about me or your Uncles, so I told them what it was they’d done wrong.”

“And the rest,” Dean muttered. Hermione subtly elbowed him.

“They were mean to you?” James frowned, picking up on the meaning of her words.

“Uncle Charlie can use his dragons on the bad ladies,” Albus spoke. The brothers snorted and Hermione smiled.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, my little wizard, I’ve told them off and they’re not going to do it again. Alright, off you go and play, it’s lunchtime soon, what do you want?”

“McDonald's!” James and Albus chorused together.

Hermione shook her head. “That’s what I thought you’d say, alright, we’ll go to McDonald's.”

They cheered before running off to continue with their playing.

“Albus has style,” Dean said amused.

This time Hermione didn’t bother hiding the fact she elbowed him.

~000~000~000~

“Alright, my little wizards, bedtime,” Hermione spoke. The boys groaned. “Yes, it’s getting late and you’ve already stayed up well past your bedtime at home. If you don’t go to bed now, you’ll be tired tomorrow and we won’t be able to do all the things you want to do.”

“The park?” Albus questioned.

“Again?” Hermione raised her eyebrow.

“No, I want to go to the zoo,” James said. “I want to see a lion.”

“I like lions, too,” Albus nodded in agreement.

“Of course you do, lions are brilliant,” Hermione smiled. “Alright, if you go to bed right now and go to sleep, we’ll go to the zoo.”

The children were gone from her sight before she could blink.

She shook her head and followed after them, seeing James pulling out pyjamas from the drawer for himself and Albus. Hermione waved her wand and had them dressed and they quickly jumped into their beds, laying down and getting themselves comfortable.

Sam entered the room with Lily who was already asleep and he put her in her crib, whilst Dean followed into the room after him.

“Aunt ‘Mione?”

“Yes, James,” she replied.

“Can we have a story?”

“Sure, which one would you like this time?”

James and Albus looked at each other from across the room and they nodded, Hermione raised an eyebrow at the display.

“We want to hear about Uncle Dean’s and Uncle Sam’s hunting,” James said.

Hermione turned to look at the brothers and they shrugged in response, indicating that they didn’t mind. Hermione conjured up two chairs for them to sit on and then she stepped back, handing the story duty over to them, whilst reminding them to watch what they said to the boys.

“Alright boys, so a couple of years ago, Sammy and I were working a case when a cursed rabbit’s foot was stolen from our dad’s storage unit.”

Sam groaned loudly and Dean smirked at him, whilst Hermione leaned against the wall with a raised eyebrow.

“The rabbit’s foot brought good luck, unless it was stolen or lost, and then you had the worst luck in the world, didn’t you Sammy?” Sam scowled. “Let’s see, you fell over, you lost your shoe down a drain which I remember you being particularly upset about, you set the AC on fire whilst sitting in a chair...”

James and Albus laughed.

“That’s funny, Uncle George set Gran’s table on fire when he was sitting in a chair,” James said. The brothers snorted.

“It wasn’t that kind of fire, Buddy,” Dean said. “He also set his arm on fire whilst trying to put the fire out, he pulled the curtains down and knocked himself out,” Dean smirked at Sam, as he scowled and crossed his arms childishly, whilst the boys laughed at Sam. “Let’s see, he got kidnapped by people that wanted to hurt him.” The boys made noises of surprise and frowned. “Don’t worry, I saved the day,” he said smugly.

“How?” Albus asked, looking excited to know.

“With a pen and TV controller, and in the end, the bad men went away and Sammy was saved.”

“Uncle Dean, Uncle Dean!” The boys chanted, standing so they could jump on the bed.

Dean stood and put his hands in the air, walking around victoriously as if he’d just won a wrestling match and Hermione burst into giggles.

“Alright boys, you’re going to wake your sister,” she called softly. “Now, you’ve had your story and it’s bedtime.” They didn’t argue this time; they laid back down and got comfortable.

“Goodnight, my little wizards,” she said, moving to kiss both of their foreheads.

“Night Aunt ‘Mione,” they both chorused. “Night Uncle Dean, Uncle Sam.”

“Night boys,” the brothers replied before the lights in the room were extinguished and they left the boys alone.

~000~000~000~

Dean entered the room, shutting the door behind him only to find himself being pressed up against it as he was attacked with kisses and wandering hands.

His hands automatically moved to wrap themselves around his wife and he pulled her against him.

“What’s brought this on?” He mumbled around her kisses.

She pulled back from him. “You’re going to be a wonderful father,” she answered. “I’ve seen it, with Lily, with James and with Albus. The children just adore you, as do the rest of the horde that is our nieces and nephews. I think you’re the boys’ hero, but don’t tell Harry that, he’ll be so put out.”

“I’m not a good role model for those boys,” he protested.

“No, you’re a great one, and I have no doubt any children we have will think of you as their hero and I’d be proud if and when they do. You’re going to make a wonderful father. Now come, let’s make a baby.”

“How can I refuse an offer such as that?” He chuckled as she pulled him towards the bed by the collar of his shirt.

~000~000~000~

Dean found himself walking around the zoo with his brother, wife and the three children he was doing his best to keep his eyes on. In the end, they’d decided that since there were three of them, they’d each be responsible for a child. Hermione had taken Albus, Lily was with Sam and James had insisted that he be with Dean, much to the amusement of the others.

It had been a long drive to the nearest zoo but it had been worth it to see the children’s excitement and joy, as they dragged them to every single animal enclosure and nothing went unseen, not even the birds, which Dean thought a bit strange since they practically lived with owls, but he didn’t complain.

“Look, it’s an elephant!” He heard Albus exclaim from a little ways in front of him, and he chuckled when the four-year-old dragged Hermione by the hand to the enclosure because she wasn’t moving quickly enough.

His eyes searched the crowd looking for his brother and he found him also by the elephants, lifting Lily so she could see over the barrier and look down at the elephants below them.

“Elephants are cool, but dragons are better,” James commented from beside him.

“I don’t doubt they are, Buddy,” Dean chuckled, shaking his head in amusement, and watching as Hermione was dragged away from the elephants and to the next enclosure.

They continued walking around the zoo until they reached the monkey enclosures and Albus begged for an ice cream from a nearby stand. Hermione conceded and she and Sam took Lily and Albus to get ice creams, whilst he waited with James.

“Uncle Dean?”

“What’s up?” He said, looking down at the six-year-old, seeing that he had a frown on his face.

“Are my mum and dad going to leave each other?”

Dean blinked in surprise. “Why do you think that?”

“I heard them, they were shouting at each other and saying mean things. I didn’t like it. Albus woke up and he cried, and Lily was sad, too. And then dad left the house, slamming the door shut. And then mum told us we were going to Aunt ‘Mione’s. We only go to Aunt Mione’s when mum and dad hate each other.”

Dean sighed, before crouching down so he was at eye level with the six-year-old that sat on the bench.

“Listen, Buddy, I can’t say whether or not if your mom and dad are going to leave each other, but what I do know is that they love each other very, very much. Moms and dads fight sometimes, and more often than not, they work out their problems and everything goes back to normal. Your Aunt has told me that your mom and dad fight sometimes and you stay with her so they can talk to each other, so they can work out their problems and remind each other that they love each other. When you go home, are you mom and dad happy?”

He nodded. “Always.”

“Well there you go, your mom and dad will sort things out and when your mom picks you up, everything will be fine. They love each other very much and they love you, Albus and Lily, even more. They would never hurt any of you, and should anything ever happen you must understand that it wasn’t your fault. Alright?”

“So they’ll love each other again?”

“They still do love each other, but I get your point. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

“Aunt ‘Mione says promises are important, they can’t be broken or bad things happen.”

“Well, your Aunt is a very clever woman.”

“Do you love Aunt ‘Mione?” He questioned suddenly, surprising Dean.

Dean turned his head to see Hermione and Sam standing by the ice cream stand, laughing loudly as Albus and Lily excitedly struggled to pick which ice cream they wanted. He smiled at the sight.

“Yeah, Buddy, I do, very much.”

“That’s good,” James nodded, and Dean raised an eyebrow. “If you didn’t I would kick your butt.”

Dean’s mouth twitched in amusement. “I can’t have that; Sammy would be thinking he’s much cooler than me.”

James looked outraged. “He’s not cooler than you. You’re the coolest. You’re my favourite Uncle.”

Dean felt his chest constrict at his words.

“Don’t be saying that in front of your other Uncles,” Hermione warned as she stood behind them. “They’ll get mad and might have to prank you,” she said amused.

“Then I’ll have Uncle Dean beat them up,” he crossed his arms over his chest.

Hermione snorted and Sam laughed before Hermione handed the ice cream off to James and he ate it heartily with a smile on his face, his current sullen mood gone.

Hermione stood off to the side, leaning against a railing and Dean came up beside her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” He asked confused.

She turned to face him. “For whatever it was that you said to James. He’s older than the others and a lot more perceptive. He’s not stupid and despite what Harry and Gin think, they don’t realise that James can hear what they say to each other, or that he understands their arguments and the meaning. He’s usually very quiet when staying with me after Harry and Ginny have had an argument. I saw it in him today, but whatever you’ve said to him has eased his fears and his worries in a way I never could. You, Mr. Winchester, are brilliant.”

He smiled at her, reaching over to pull her into him. “Not as brilliant as you, Mrs. Winchester,” he replied, lowering his head to kiss her.

They pulled back from each other when they heard the children’s noises of disgust and seeing that Sam was encouraging them and pulling faces which made them laugh.

“That’s gross!” Albus scrunched his nose up.

“What is?” Hermione questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Kissing,” he replied with a disgusted look on his face.

“Oh really?” Hermione said with a mischievous grin on her face.

“Albus, run!” James warned, as Hermione suddenly darted forward and she tried to reach for Albus.

Albus shrieked and jumped off the bench, Sam took his ice cream before he dropped it and Albus ran away as Hermione chased after him. Dean, Lily, Sam and James laughed as Hermione caught Albus and caged her against him as she pressed kisses to his face relentlessly, and he laughed and exclaimed that it was, “Disgusting!”

Dean smiled, and he found that over the last couple of days he’d spent with the children, he couldn’t wait for Hermione to fall pregnant. He couldn’t wait to have a child of his own that was half him and half Hermione. He was still terrified, but less so.

~000~000~000~

It was the early hours of the morning when he was woken by the bedroom door opening, and he tiredly lifted his head, his eyes squinting to the see the one responsible for waking him.

“Uncle Dean?” James said.

“What is it, Buddy?” He stifled his yawn.

“I had a bad dream,” James said quietly. “Can I stay with you?”

Dean looked to Hermione, seeing that she was lying beside him, her back to him with one of his arms cushioned under her head and the other was thrown over her waist. Dean yawned, before lifting the blanket in invitation, glad that Hermione had forced him to at least put on some boxers after their shared shower. At the time he’d protested, but now he owed her.

James closed the door behind him before walking into the room and climbing into bed beside Hermione. He’d expected James to lie down but he didn’t, instead he climbed over Hermione clumsily and surprisingly she didn’t wake, before he wormed his way in-between him and Hermione, laying down and burrowing under the covers.

Dean felt his heart melting again.

Bloody kids! They were turning him soft!

Dean settled back down, hearing that James was out for the count by the time his head had hit the pillow, and just when Dean was drifting off, the door opened again.

“Uncle Dean?”

Dean groaned, lifting his head to see Albus stood in the doorway.

“What’s up, Skippy?” He yawned.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me either,” he grumbled quietly, before lifting the blanket in invitation.

Albus shut the door and quickly walked over to the bed, climbing in and laying down beside Hermione, wiggling himself closer to her. Hermione sighed in her sleep and lifted her arm to hook it over Albus’ little frame, as if knowing he was there. Despite Albus’ words, he was asleep within minutes, and just as Dean was drifting off, a cry had him wide awake.

“Fucking hell, give me a break,” he muttered, before climbing out of bed and making his way to the nursery, walking in to find Lily awake.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He sighed. Lily nodded with tears in her eyes. “Come on, then, Lily Petal...” Lily giggled. “Let’s join the others.”

He removed her from the crib before heading back to the bedroom. He’d never been so glad for the fact Hermione’s bed was so big. He climbed back into bed, placing Lily in-between himself and James, ensuring that she wouldn’t get crushed in her sleep before he finally fell asleep.

~000~000~000~

Hermione awoke dying for the toilet and surrounded by children. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and pushed herself up, being mindful not to accidentally hurt any of the children on either side of her. She quickly climbed out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom, returning minutes later, where she leaned against the door frame watching the sleeping occupants of the bed.

She couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on her face, she couldn’t stop the love that pooled within her chest for her Godchildren and her husband, and she couldn’t stop the feelings the sight elicited within her: hope, longing and happiness.

During her trip to the bathroom, the occupants of the bed had shifted so that Albus was now next to James; he faced James’ back, whilst James was facing Dean. In-between Dean and James was Lily, who was laid on her back and Dean’s hand was pressed against the mattress by Lily’s side, ensuring that James couldn’t roll over in his sleep and accidentally hurt her.

Dean worried he wouldn’t be a good father, but Hermione knew he would be. She’d seen the way he responds to the children, and vice versa; the children loved him. She knew that he cared for the children, and despite his worries, the instincts to protect the children were there and they showed in the way he’d eased James’ worries, in the way he made sure the children were in his line of sight at all times, and in the way he’d made a barrier between Lily and James, even in his sleep. Hermione knew he’d been forced to all but raise Sam as a child due to his father’s hunting and she wondered if that was where his worries stemmed from, but he’d only been a child himself.

Hermione’s attention was drawn back to the bed when Albus let out a loud snore and she chuckled, shaking her head. Unable to resist the absolute adorableness of the scene in front of her, she summoned her magical camera and snapped several shots, and she would later have one framed and hung up on the wall. She didn’t have many photos with herself, Dean or Sam, and she knew she’d have to rectify the situation. She put the camera down and climbed back into bed by Albus’ side, making it so Dean and Hermione were on the outer edges and the children were between them, preventing them from falling out of bed and keeping them safe.

Hermione fell back to sleep, having dreams of green-eyed boys and curly-haired girls.

~000~000~000~

Dean woke to the light streaming through the gap in the curtains. He blinked the sleep away from his eyes before his gaze landed on Hermione on the other side of the bed and she was wide awake and smiling at him softly.

“Good morning, Husband,” she said softly.

“Good morning, Wife,” he replied, seeing her smile widen and her eyes sparkle.

“So, do you want to explain this?” She gestured to the children, all still asleep and snuggled under the blankets.

“James had a nightmare, Albus couldn’t sleep and Lily woke up,” he replied.

“You’re such a softie,” she teased. “You could’ve just told them to go back to bed, particularly the boys, Lily would’ve fallen asleep after a cuddle.”

In all honesty, that thought hadn’t crossed his mind, and she knew as she chuckled at him.

Lily shifted slightly in her sleep and his eyes fell downcast, looking at the way her red hair was a mess, her mouth was parted and seeing her little chest rising and falling with every breath she took.

“Is this what fatherhood’s like?” Dean asked quietly, never taking his eyes off of Lily.

“Partially,” Hermione replied in a soft, loving tone. “Aside from the last few days we’ve had the children and we’ve kept them entertained, bathed them, fed them, put them to bed, kept them safe and protected, it’s only part of it. There’s also arguments and fallings outs, there’s exhaustion and a lack of sleep, there’s sharing a bed with the children or staying in their room if they’re ill, there’s love and the ‘I hate you’s’ and the ‘You’re ruining my life.’ I’m just quoting what I’ve heard Victore say, since she’s the oldest girl of the bunch. There’s going to be ups and downs in a family, but they’ll always be love.”

~000~000~000~

”Right children, what are we doing today?”

“Park?” Albus said.

“No,” James shook his head.

“Zoo?” Albus offered.

“No, we did that yesterday,” James said.

“I know, let’s go swimming,” Albus said excitedly.

“I like swimming,” James nodded.

“Me too,” the four-year-old grinned. “I’m going to swim really fast.”

“Not as fast as me,” James argued.

“I am!”

“I’m going to splash the most.”

“No, I am!”

“Boys,” Hermione chided.

“Sorry, Aunt ‘Mione,” they both muttered, going back to their cereal, whilst Sam placed a yoghurt pot in front of Lily, which he would soon regret.

Dean’s phone rang in his pocket and he pulled it out, frowning slightly before answering.

“Yeah, Bobby?”

“Dean, I’ve got a case for you, there’s been....”

“Bobby, we can’t take it,” Dean interrupted.

“You were only taking the weekend off,” Bobby frowned.

“There’s been a change of plans, we’re watching after Harry’s kids whilst he and his wife sort out some issues with their marriage,” he said quietly so the children wouldn’t hear. “By the sound of it, their argument was pretty bad. That was three days ago, we’re not sure when they’re coming for the kids. Not that they’re any bother.”

The line went quiet, showing Bobby’s surprise.

“Right...Well...” He cleared his throat. “It’s a suspected werewolf, the last attack was three days ago, so I suppose there’s plenty of time for you to close the case before the next full moon, unless you want me to pass it on to Ellen and Jo?”

“No, we’ll take it and deal with it when we can. We need to be careful now; Hermione’s informed us there’s two types of werewolves, magical and non-magical.”

“Well, crap!” Bobby cursed over the speaker.

“Yeah, exactly, we need to make sure the werewolf we’re dealing with isn’t magical, they’re not well-liked in the magical world, but I can’t imagine them taking kindly to us killing one of their own.”

“I see your point, from now on when a suspected werewolf case crosses my desk, I’ll pass it straight onto you.”

“Thanks, Bobby. We’ll let you know when we’ve gotten started.”

“Don’t ruin those kids’ lives with your shit jokes.”

“I’ll have you know the kids think I’m awesome, James even said I was his favourite Uncle,” Dean boasted.

“Idjit,” Bobby muttered, hanging up the phone.

“Case?” Hermione questioned, and Dean looked around, seeing that Albus and James had disappeared from the table, likely to get dressed.

“Werewolf, I’ve told Bobby we’re still out of commission until the kids are gone, but seeing as it’s a werewolf and the last attack was a few days ago, we still have plenty of time to close the case before anyone else is injured. Can you determine between a magical and non-magical werewolf through victims?”

Hermione bit her lip in thought. “Possibly, depending on how the body of the victim is preserved. The two have different sized claws, paws and teeth for a start, which will help to determine which one we’re dealing with.”

“Aunt ‘Mione! Hurry up!” James called from the nursery and Hermione chuckled.

“I better go and get them dressed, pack swimming trunks.”

“Don’t have any,” Dean shrugged.

“Then we’ll have to stop somewhere and get some, we’ll have to get armbands as well for the children.”

“Armbands?” Sam frowned in confusion.

“Yeah, the things you blow up and put on the children’s arms to stop them from drowning.”

“You mean floaties?” Dean said amused.

“No, if I had meant floaties I would’ve said floaties. I meant armbands.” She stood to leave before turning to Sam. “Since you’re the one that gave in to her and gave her the yoghurt, you’re cleaning her up,” Hermione pointed to Lily, before leaving the room.

“Jesus!” Sam cursed, having not realised the mess Lily could make with a small yoghurt pot.

She had it on her face, up her nose, around her mouth, in her hair and it covered her hands and fingers as if she’d just put her entire hand into the pot. It covered the table as well as there being some on the floor, there was even some on his jeans. 

“Good luck getting it off her,” Dean chuckled, seeing the way Lily clung to the pot and the spoon as if her life depended on it.

When Dean left the kitchen, he was leaving behind Sam and Lily, who were wrestling for the spoon and the empty yoghurt pot.


	77. Chapter 77

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 14

“Can we go in the pool outside?” James asked.

“I suppose so since it’s warm enough, but you have to put on your sun cream, we don’t want you getting burnt.”

“Why don’t you just use magic?” He asked.

“We’re in the Muggle World, James, we can’t risk people seeing me magically applying sun cream or using a spell to protect you. We have to do everything the muggle way.”

“Alright,” he said as they approached the entrance to the swimming baths.

They quickly made their way to the changing rooms, James and Albus going with Dean and Sam and Hermione took Lily before they met up at the entrance to the large outdoor pool, equipped with water slides and lounge chairs surrounding the pool.

Hermione wasn’t oblivious to Dean’s eyes on her body, partially appreciative, but also confused as she had glamoured her scars so no one would see them. Normally she wouldn’t have bothered or cared, but she didn’t want the children asking questions. She’d also glamoured Dean’s and Sam’s for the same reason, but they hadn’t noticed yet.

She wore a simple black bikini with her hair tied up into a bun. Lily was dressed in a cute little pink bathing suit with frills, whilst James opted for a black pair of swimming trunks to match Dean’s, and Albus opted for blue to match Sam’s. Much to Hermione’s amusement their favourites were clear.

“Armbands first,” Hermione said, catching James by the arm before he tried to make a break for the pool. “It’s for your safety.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, allowing Hermione to put the armbands on him, and doing the same for Albus, before they both dashed off to jump in the water.

“I’ll go,” Sam chuckled, making after the children and ensuring they didn’t hurt anyone else or themselves.

Hermione made her way around the pool, looking for an empty lounge chair and luckily she found three, which she set towels down on to claim them before anyone else could. She perched herself on one, and sat Lily in front of her as she lathered the little redhead in sun cream.

“Where are your scars?” Dean asked.

“I covered them with magic so no one would see them.”

“Why?” He frowned.

“I’m not ashamed of my body, Dean,” she told him. “I did it for the children. We all do. The children are too young to understand the sacrifices we made for the war, and they’re too young to understand the sacrifices we continue to make every day in order to protect them. If the children see my scars they’ll ask questions, questions that I don’t want to have to answer when they’re so young. I don’t want them to form bad opinions of werewolves because one tried to kill me and marked me, I don’t want them to form a bad opinion of a hippogriff because one injured me. There’s enough prejudice in the world and it can’t be combated if children are fed information to hate a species or creature at a young age. They need to be old enough to understand both sides of the story; they need to be old enough to form their own opinions without the influence of someone else.”

“You surprise me more and more each day,” he said.

She smiled. “That’s good; it means I’m keeping you on your toes.”

“You always do, Sweetheart,” he replied, leaning over to kiss her and then pulling back. “So, Lily Petal,” Dean said, making Lily giggle and Hermione smiled. “Shall we go swimming?”

“I go spl-as’ too,” the almost two-year-old said.

“Brilliant idea, let’s get your Uncle Sammy,” he grinned, picking Lily up and making his way to the pool, leaving Hermione to lounge back and enjoy the sun whilst she had the chance.

She watched as Dean silently crept up behind Sam with Lily on his back and her arms around his neck, and he motioned for James and Albus to be quiet when they saw him approaching. Hermione fished out her camera, thankful she’d remembered to charm it to look muggle in appearance and she documented the entire scene as it played out.

Dean shuffled Lily until she sat on his hip and together they splashed Sam, the boys found it hilarious and Sam had looked murderous, intending to repay Dean in kind; only Dean had the best defence possible. He had Lily in his arms and Sam wouldn’t attack Dean with her nearby, though the look he gave Dean promised retribution the moment he was no longer protected. Hermione laughed from her place on the lounge chair and took plenty of photos of the children and their Uncles in the pool together, though Dean was reluctant to give Lily up to Sam, knowing the moment he did, he was in for it.

It was an hour later when Dean’s jealousy streak made an appearance, logically he knew he had no reason to be jealous, but that didn’t stop him from feeling it.

He caught sight of Hermione lounging on the chair, soaking up the sun and looking as beautiful as she always did, only now the sun made her skin glow and her hair shiny. You could see her feminine curves, her flat stomach and the cleavage of her breasts. You could see her long legs and her dainty feet with her toenails painted a pale pink and looking adorable as they matched her fingernails. Her hair was still in the messy bun, only a few curls had sprung free and were framing her heart-shaped face. There was a little pout on her mouth, making her completely kissable and her eyes were hidden behind round, black sunglasses.

Fuck, she was beautiful! An Angel.

He came back to himself when the subject of his jealousy spoke again. It was three teenaged boys, who Dean assumed couldn’t have been older than sixteen, seventeen at a push. They were all wearing different coloured swimming trunks; two of them were brunettes, another blonde. The brunettes both had brown eyes whilst the blonde had green, and were one of the brunettes was pale, the others were tanned, and none of them was taller than five-foot-eleven. And judging by their slightly muscled frames, he’d guess they played a sport of some kind.

He narrowed his eyes on them, and seeing as they were stood close to the edge of the pool near to where he was with Lily perched on the side of the pool, splashing water at him with her feet, he was able to hear what they were saying and it was clear it was about his wife.

“Would check her out,” one of the brunettes said. “Fuck, she’s hot, man! What I’d do to her,” he said, and the others laughed.

“As if you’d have a shot at her, Nate,” the other brunette said with a laugh. “We both know she’d prefer me over you.”

“In your dreams, Mike,” the blonde snorted. “She’d want someone who knew what they were doing.”

“And what, Chris? You’re the one to do that?” The one he knew was called Nate asked.

“Obviously, I’d have her eating out of the palm of my hand before she knew it,” he said smugly. “She’ll be begging for it within the hour.”

“A girl like that’s probably got a boyfriend,” Nate said.

“Like that would stop me,” Chris said.

The other two smirked. “Very well, you get first go at her,” Mike said.

“Watch and learn,” he said, before puffing out his chest and making his way towards Hermione.

Dean had a decision to make. He could beat the shit out of them for the way they’d spoken about his wife, or, he could watch what Hermione would do to the kid, and then beat the shit out of them. The latter won as it was sure to be the most entertaining.

Dean picked up Lily, moving along the side of the pool until he was closer to where Hermione was lounging, so he could watch the scene unfold from a better advantage point.

~000~000~000~

Hermione had been relaxing as she lounged on the chair in the warm sunshine, when her peace was ruined as she heard whispers from her right, and then she felt the change in temperature as the sun was blocked from reaching her.

She opened her eyes, seeing what she guessed was a seventeen-year-old boy, standing beside her lounger and looking down at her. She admitted the blonde could be considered good looking, but in a few years, he’d grow into his looks and hopefully his ears, too.

She brought her hand up to her sunglasses and pushed them up off her eyes, holding them in place against her forehead.

“Can I help you?” She said politely.

The blonde’s eyes widened, obviously, he hadn’t been expecting her accent. Her eyes followed his when he looked over his shoulder, seeing two brunettes who looked to be the same age as him. Hermione quickly put the pieces together and she knew what was about to happen.

“I’m Chris,” he said, apparently pulling himself together and finding his voice. He held his hand out and Hermione took it, slipping her free hand into his.

“Hermione,” she replied, before quickly removing her hand from his hold.

“Hermione, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he said with a grin.

Hermione barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “Was there something I could help you with? Have you lost your parents? I’d be happy to help you look for them,” she said, just as she heard hysterical laughter coming from the two brunettes off to the side of them.

The blonde smiled, apparently brushing off her subtle signal that she thought he was too young for her. She had the feeling she was going to have to be more obvious.

“Why would I need you to do that?” He asked, moving to sit beside her on the empty lounge chair.

“You’re what? Fifteen?” She said, hearing the laughter from the other teens growing louder.

The blonde chuckled and shook his head. “No, I’m a lot older than I look; I’m turning twenty-one next month.”

“Yes, in six years,” Hermione muttered quietly. “I’m sorry, was there something I could help you with?” She asked louder this time.

“I just saw you sitting over here, looking as stunning as you do, and I thought to myself, I wonder if Sleeping Beauty would let me buy her a drink.”

“Sleeping Beauty was blonde,” Hermione corrected.

“But my analogy was correct, you were a Sleeping Beauty,” he smiled charmingly.

She was sure it would work on girls his own age, but she had her own handsome charmer who only had to look at her to dampen her knickers. Thinking of her husband, her eyes searched the pool for him, seeing him close by with Lily sat on the edge of the pool and splashing water at Dean with her feet whilst he tickled her and she laughed loudly. But given his close presence, she suspected he’d seen or heard the teenagers likely talking before she was approached, which would explain him being nearby.

One look at his face confirmed her theory, and since he hadn’t come over yet, it meant he was doing his best to listen in to her conversation, waiting for her to let the teenager down before he made his move. She knew him better than anyone else, even Sam couldn’t argue with her on that.

“So?”

She pulled her eyes away from her husband.

“So?”She questioned.

“May I buy you a drink?”

“Of water?” She questioned, pulling her sunglasses off entirely and placing them on the lounger since her arm was hurting from holding them up.

“If you’d like,” he chuckled. “Though I was thinking of something with more of a kick to it.”

“They don’t sell alcohol here.”

“They don’t?” He said, sounding surprised. “Then I’ll guess I’ll have to take you out so I can buy you that drink I promised.”

Hermione had to admit, that was quite clever what he’d done, but she wasn’t falling for it and she was tired of the conversation, it was time to be blunter with her words.

“Listen, Chris, I don’t want to sound like a bitch, but I think I’m a bit too old for you, and you’d be much better suited to working that charm on girls your own age.”

He smiled at her, seeming to be unaffected by her words. “It takes a real woman to handle what I have to offer,” he said, giving her a suggestive look as his eyes swept her body.

She held in her sigh.

“Seriously, I’m twenty-seven, I could be arrested for even looking at you. I know you’re not the age you say you are, and your friends’ reactions over there confirm my theory,” she gestured to the teens, who suddenly became more interested in the ground when she caught them staring.

“So, what is it you’re after?” She questioned. “You know, don’t answer that, I’m sure I could figure it out. But as I said, I’m too old for you, you’re better off going after someone your own age, and even if you were almost twenty-one, I still wouldn’t sleep with you. First of all, I’m not a one night stand kind of girl,” she told him. “And second of all...”

~000~000~000~

“What are you glaring at?” Sam asked, approaching him whilst also keeping an eye on James and Albus as they splashed about in the shallow end of the pool.

“Nothing,” Dean muttered.

Sam’s eyes swept the area before landing on the two teens, laughing to themselves and then his eyes landed on Hermione, who looked less than impressed with the teen sat beside her.

“Ah,” Sam said, understanding dawning on him. “Your death glare now makes sense,” he chuckled. “Have you heard anything?”

Dean’s mouth twitched. “She asked if he needed help with finding his parents.”

Sam blinked before he burst out laughing and for no apparent reason, Lily laughed along with him.

“You know, I’m so glad we met her,” Sam shook his head.

“You and me both,” Dean mumbled. “Now, take over watching Lily Petal...” Lily giggled. “So I can make my presence known.”

“Alright, go get your witch,” Sam teased, moving to cage Lily in his arms so she couldn’t fall into the pool if she lost her balance whilst splashing him by kicking water at him.

Dean made his way to the steps which weren’t far away from Hermione. He climbed the steps and brushed the water out of his hair, before approaching her, his gaze immediately locking on hers and he felt his length twitch at the clear look of hunger she held in her eyes.

He felt a smirk pulling at his mouth. He knew he had her attention and soon, the blonde would realise his mistake in going after his Hermione.

~000~000~000~

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and she felt her heartbeat pick up as she watched Dean climb up the steps and out of the pool. Water droplets ran down his chest and the sun made his tanned skin glow. He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face before he made his way towards her.

For Hermione, his approach happened in slow motion; it reminded her of something you’d see on Bay Watch. She blinked the thought away and sighed.

Bloody hell, it should be illegal to be so bloody sexy!

She could feel her body responding to the lustful gaze he had trained on her, and she bit her lip to stop herself from making any inappropriate sounds, particularly given the public setting they were in.

“And second of all?” The teen beside her prompted with a frown, though he didn’t appear to be giving up in his pursuit of her.

“Hello, Wife,” Dean spoke, his darkening eyes on her.

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. “Hello, Husband,” she replied breathlessly.

He smirked at her, knowing it wouldn’t take much to convince her to leave with him for a little while so he could ravish her somewhere.

She shook her head. “I’m married,” she said to the teen, seeing his wide eyes looking Dean up and down.

“Is this _kid_ bothering you, Sweetheart?” Dean asked, narrowing his eyes on the blonde.

“A little, though I was just telling him he’d be much more successful in going after someone his own age. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I don’t really care who he chases after, so long as it’s far away from you and the kids, they don’t need to see you beating him off with a stick, they’re so young and it would be such a shame for them to learn of your violent tendencies so early on in their lives.”

She reached over and smacked at his leg. In response he moved closer, lifted Hermione’s feet and then he sat down on her lounger, placing her feet in his lap.

“Be nice,” she warned, though she found his comment amusing, she didn’t show it.

“I am being nice,” he argued. “I haven’t punched him yet.”

The blonde visibly paled.

“Such a caveman,” Hermione rolled her eyes, before turning her attention back to the teen. “Ignore him; he’s a tad overprotective.”

“If you speak about my wife so crassly again, I’ll beat the shit out of you, and that goes for your friends, too.”

The blonde looked as though he were going to faint.

“Dean!” Hermione scolded. “There is no need for that”

“Sorry, Sweetheart, but you didn’t hear the things he said about you and I did, loud and clear. He’s lucky he’s still breathing.”

“Still, there is no excuse for such threats; he’s a kid for God’s Sake.”

“A kid that spoke of you in a manner that is demeaning and degrading,” he pointed out.

“I bet you did the same when you were his age.”

“That’s not relevant.”

“How is it not relevant?”

“I wasn’t a married man back then, and I didn’t say those things about another man’s wife, especially in front of him.”

“You know what, I don’t even care.” She reached down to the floor and picked up the sun cream. “Put this on my back for me,” she said, handing it to him.

“Gladly,” he smirked.

She shifted until she lay on her stomach and he moved to sit beside her, putting the sun cream on his hands and rubbing it into her shoulders. She sighed when his hands touched her skin and she bit her lip as he massaged at the point between her neck and her shoulder.

He pushed down harder and a moan tore from the back of her throat and Dean smirked at the sound. He turned his head seeing the teen still sat there, staring with wide eyes and with a blush covering his cheeks.

“You’re still here?” Dean questioned with a raised eyebrow. Before he could blink the blonde was gone and on the other side of the pool with his friends.

“Marked your territory?” Hermione said through a sigh, as he moved between her shoulder blades.

“Yes, thank you,” he said, leaning forward and placing a kiss to the back of her neck.

The feeling of his hands on her body had her rubbing her legs together and Dean noticed with a smirk. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, words that had her breath catching and her insides clenching. She was too far gone to forget about it. She was going to kill him later on.

She sat up and pushed him away from her, before grabbing her bag and making her way over to the pool.

“I’m going to get a drink, do you want anything?” Hermione asked, looking down at Sam.

“You’re both going? Why does it take two of you?” He questioned amused and not bothering to hide it; he’d known what was going to happen since he’d seen the teen hitting on Hermione and the glare on Dean’s face.

“I can’t carry it all by myself,” she answered calmly. “I’ll see if they sell food, too, otherwise we’ll have to leave for lunch and come back afterwards, which is a bit of a pain in the arse, to be honest, and we’ll have to pay re-admittance.”

“Hmm,” Sam hummed.

Hermione scowled at him. “Just keep an eye on the boys, if they get too much to handle just pull them out of the water and sit them on the sun loungers, they need to have more sun cream applied anyway.”

She turned and walked away with Dean following behind her.

“Have fun!” Sam called.

“I’m going to kill him!” She muttered.

Dean chuckled and followed her through the building, being mindful to try and be as normal as possible as to not give anything away about their current intentions.

Dean pulled her towards the toilets, but Hermione kicked him in the shin and stormed away, leaving him rubbing at the aching limb and following after her, whilst she tried to find somewhere clean, suitable and private enough to shag her husband silly.

They happened upon a locked supply room and Hermione checked that there were no security cameras, before subtly unlocking the door with her wand. She checked inside the supply room for security cameras and when she found none, she pulled Dean in by the waistband of his trunks and locked the door behind them.

~000~000~000~

“Sorry we took so long,” Hermione said, approaching Sam and the children as they now sat on the loungers by the pool. “The queues at the tills were murder,” she said.

She dropped the armful of sandwiches, crisps, chocolate bars and fruit onto the chair, whilst Dean had the rest, including the bottled water and the juice cartons for the children.

“I bet they were,” Sam replied with a knowing smirk. Hermione scowled. “It’s not so nice, is it?”

“The only difference being I’m not embarrassed,” Hermione said. “You want me to say it? Fine, I snuck off to have sex with my husband in a supply closet, because I couldn’t help myself,” she said quietly so the children wouldn’t hear.

Sam grimaced and Dean smirked.

“It’s your own fault, Sammy; you’re the one that had to wind her up.”

“I mean, we are trying for a baby, Sam. That means we’ve got to take every chance we get, especially when I’m most fertile.” Hermione said innocently.

“Please stop!” Sam begged.

“And believe me, Sam; we _do_ take every opportunity we are presented with,” she smirked. “I mean, I doubt there’s a place we haven’t done it yet,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m pretty sure we’ve done it in every motel we’ve stayed in, even when we were forced to share a room, of course, we waited until you left, that would be creepy otherwise,” she said. “Let’s see, there’s the shower, our bedroom, we almost done it on the kitchen table but Mimsy let you into the apartment and we had to stop.”

Sam’s face was a sight to behold; it was something Dean would never forget.

“We haven’t done it on the couch,” she mused. “Yet,” she added. “Where else? Oh, that’s right, we’ve done it on the car and in the car, what? Twice?”

“Three times,” Dean corrected with a smirk. “You’re forgetting about that time we stopped for fuel a few weeks ago.”

“Oh yeah, now that had been particularly intense, especially since we were almost caught when a police car drove past.”

Sam made a whining sound and he covered his ears.

“For the love of everything that is right with the world, please stop talking. I don’t need to know about your baby-making dalliances. And please tell me you didn’t do it in the back seat,” he begged. “Oh Jesus, you have haven’t you?”

“Twice,” Hermione nodded. “And once on the driver’s side,” she said innocently.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he muttered, putting his head in his hands.

“Stop being a baby, I spelled the seats clean,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well that makes everything alright then,” he grumbled.

“To be fair, you started it,” Dean said. “You should know by now that you can’t win an argument with her.”

“Yeah,” James piped up, his voice muffled by the fact he had a chocolate bar in his mouth. “Dad says only an idiot would argue with Aunt ‘Mione.”

“We already know Sammy’s an idiot, Buddy. I’ve known it since he was brought home from the hospital,” Dean said.

Sam scowled, before turning to look at James. “How much of that conversation did you hear?”

“When Uncle Dean said you started the argument,” he shrugged.

“Good,” the three adults said together.

“Sam, eat your sandwich,” Hermione said.

“I feel sick.”

“Oh, now you’re being ridiculous,” she huffed.

“I am not! You’ve scarred me for life!” He argued.

“How so?”

“I don’t ever want to think of you in a sexual way and certainly not with my brother. It’s bad enough that I sometimes have to hear it, but having you actually describe what you get up to is horrifying.”

“It’s not horrifying,” Hermione defended. “In fact, it feels bloody amazing.”

Sam made a whining sound and Dean chuckled. 

“Alright, Glinda, I think he’s learned his lesson,” he said, taking pity on his little brother. 

Hermione smiled innocently, before turning her attention to convincing the children to eat some fruit before they had more chocolate.

~000~000~000~

“That was so much fun!” James commented with a sleepy yawn, as he was being carried by Sam out of the lift and into the apartment.

“Yeah, best day ever,” Albus said tiredly, whilst he was being carried by Hermione, and Dean had Lily who was already asleep.

“Can we go again tomorrow?” James asked.

“Don’t you want to do something different?” Sam asked.

James frowned.

“Harry, Ginny,” Hermione stopped in surprise as she entered her living room, seeing her two friends sitting on the couch, apparently waiting for them to return home.

“Mum! Dad!” The boys yelled, before wiggling to be put down and they rushed to their parents, being engulfed by their hugs.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Hermione said, walking over to them.

“Not too long, we should’ve known not to come over unannounced, we know you always take the kids out when they’re here,” Harry smiled at her, and pulled her into a hug.

“Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine now,” he confirmed. “Thank you.”

“No problem, we’ve loved having them,” she replied, pulling back from Harry and moving so she could hug Ginny.

“Mum! Dad! We’ve been to the park and Uncle Dean let us go in his car,” James said excitedly. “And we went to the zoo and we had ice cream and Aunt ‘Mione chased Albus and kissed him ‘coz he said her kissing Uncle Dean was gross...” Harry and Ginny snorted. “And Uncle Dean told us a story about him and Uncle Sam going hunting and Uncle Sam lost the rabbit foot and got bad luck. He lost his shoe and set himself on fire, and he fell over and got kidnapped, but it’s okay, Uncle Dean rescued him. Yay! Uncle Dean and...”

“James, breathe,” Harry interrupted with a chuckle, whilst also looking confused about what he’d just said.

James took a deep breath. “Okay, and today we went swimming, and Lily and Uncle Dean splashed Uncle Sam, a lot, and Aunt ‘Mione had a fight with Uncle Sam, and Uncle Dean said he’d known Uncle Sam was an idiot since he’d been brought home from the hospital, ‘coz Dad says only an idiot argues with Aunt ‘Mione...” Harry and Ginny chuckled. “And we had a water fight and Uncle Sam threw me and Albus into the pool and Uncle Dean took us on the cool water slides and then Uncle Dean and Uncle Sam had a fight whilst we sat with Aunt ‘Mione, it was so funny. Uncle Sam pushed Uncle Dean into the pool, so Uncle Dean put Uncle Sam’s head under the water, and then Aunt ‘Mione called them both idiots, so they pushed her into the pool. She was so mad, it was brilliant!“ He finished, going silent and panting as he’d rushed to tell them everything.

“It sounds like you’ve had a very fun time with your Aunt and Uncles,” Harry laughed whilst trying to dislodge Albus from his leg. The boys nodded. “Well, as much as we hate to pull you away from all the fun, we have to get you home, your Aunt and Uncles have a job to do.” The boys frowned.

“Don’t worry, my little wizards, you can visit any time you want. Your mum and dad will let us know and we’ll make sure we’re here for you,” Hermione said.

“Okay,” they both said, though they still sounded sad.

“Now come say goodbye,” she said.

The boys hugged Hermione, Sam and Dean, who reluctantly handed Lily over to Harry, though she woke in the process and blinked in surprise, before seeing her father and throwing her arms around him and squealing happily.

“I missed you too, Lily,” he chuckled, placing a kiss to her forehead.

Dean felt his chest tighten. That was what he wanted for himself and Hermione. He just had to be patient.

“Say goodbye to your Aunt and Uncles,” Ginny said.

Apparently being too tired to speak, Lily settled for waving, and Harry stepped forward, shaking Sam’s hand and then Dean’s.

“Thanks for looking after them,” Harry said.

“They’re no bother,” Dean replied, tucking his hands into his pockets. “And a word of advice?” Harry frowned. “James, be careful what you say around him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He confided in me,” Dean said, surprising Harry. “That kid of yours is smarter than you realise, he heard the argument, he said Lily was sad and Albus cried. He asked me if you and Ginny were going to leave each other.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Oh My God,” he muttered in horror.

“I eased his worries the best I could, but be more careful next time, he understands more than you give him credit for.”

“Right, well, thank you,” Harry nodded, still with a slight frown on his face.

Dean nodded in reply before looking to the half-asleep Lily in Harry’s arms.

“And I’ll see you soon, Lily Petal.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at Dean’s nickname for his daughter, and Lily giggled. Dean’s vision was obscured by red hair when he found himself being hugged by Ginny.

“Thank you for looking after my babies, I know they can be a handful.”

“They were no bother,” Dean repeated, shuffling on his feet nervously when Ginny pulled back.

“I don’t believe that,” she chuckled, before talking James’ and Albus’ hands in hers and heading to the floo.

The family stepped into the fireplace and just as they disappeared into the flames they heard James speak.

“Hey, Dad, when we were at the park Aunt ‘Mione made us cover our ears so she could tell off the bad ladies for saying mean things about her and Uncle Dean and Uncle Sam.”

The last thing they saw was Harry’s amused smile and Ginny’s knowing smirk.

“And they’re gone, I’m going to miss them,” Hermione sighed. “Right, I suppose we better get some rest, we have a werewolf to find.” 

~000~000~000~

“You okay?” Hermione asked, as she exited the bathroom and saw Dean sat on the edge of the bed in his boxers.

“Yeah, I guess I just miss them,” he admitted.

She chuckled. “I know, I miss the little devils, too, I always do.”

“Spending the last few days with them has made me realise something.”

“What?”

“I want a family with you,” he turned to look at her, his eyes locking onto hers. “I know I said I wanted a baby, but now, I’m one hundred percent committed to having a family with you. Those kids have shown me what my life could be like when children are involved and I want that. I want what your brothers and sisters have, and I want to have it with you. I’m still worried that I’ll mess up, but not as much as I was before. Those children have shown me how my priorities need to change, they’ve shown me what I need to do and be in order to keep a child safe and raise them right. And I’ve realised something else, too.”

“And that is?” She asked softly.

“I think we should have three kids, at least.”

Hermione chuckled. “Three?”

“At least,” he nodded. “I’m not opposed to putting more than one baby in you.”

She snorted. “No, I’m well aware of that. Three?” He nodded again. “I think that’s a good number,” she agreed.

“And I want at least one girl,” he told her.

She laughed. “Yes, I’ve seen what you’re like with Lily, we’ve got to make sure you get your daddy’s little girl.”

“And I’m going to spoil her rotten,” he agreed. “And no unrelated man is allowed to get within twenty feet of her. She’ll be locked away from men for her entire life and she’ll be surrounded by dolls and cats. She’s not allowed to date and she’s certainly not allowed to get married. And if I ever discover she’s talking to a boy, I’ll kill him for corrupting the innocent mind of my little girl.”

Hermione bit her lip. “Of course, and I’ll buy her pretty dresses and shoes that match. And pretty bows to put in her hair.”

“She’ll have your hair.”

“And she’ll have your eyes,” Hermione said.

“And should we have boys, they’ll be protective of her and I’ll drill it into them that should a boy approach her, they’re to knock his head off,” Dean spoke. “And when they’re old enough, I’ll teach them to shoot, you can teach them to throw knives and I’ll teach them how to drive, and I’ll teach them how to fight, we can use Sammy as a practice dummy.”

Hermione snorted. “Yes, you’ll teach them all about hunting and I’ll teach them all about magic and potions, and when they graduate from school, I’ll teach them every single spell I know to make them great wizards. I’ll buy them their first Quidditch jerseys, and despite being terrified they’d get hurt, I’ll attend every Quidditch match, should they decide to try out for the team and make it.”

“And should they choose the hunting lifestyle we’ll hunt together as a family, and should they choose to do something else with their lives, I’ll be proud and support them.”

“Our hypothetical family sounds perfect,” Hermione commented, and they fell silent, before getting ready for bed, lying down and getting comfortable.

“I...I think I’m ready to be father,” Dean said quietly.

“I know you are,” she responded, holding his hand and squeezing it tightly. “And you’re going to be wonderful at it.”


	78. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

“So, what are we dealing with? Magical or non-magical?” Dean asked, peering over Hermione’s shoulder as she looked down at the body of one of the victims.

Hermione frowned. “I think we’re dealing with a non-magical werewolf.”

“How can you tell?” He asked curiously.

“Well, you see these claw markings?” She gestured to the largest one across the chest.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Well, if you look here, they just stop,” she pointed at the edge of the scar. “This indicates that the claws are straight, whereas magical werewolves have a curved point meaning the starting and ending point of any marks tend to be slightly more curved or deeper. Also, the distance between the claws themselves is approximately three and a half centre-metres, whilst non-magical werewolves only have a distance of two and a half. And, if we look at the teeth markings on the side, you can see how wide the jaw was, again, magical werewolves are generally bigger, and judging by the size of this bite, it’s non-magical, and the indentations from the teeth aren’t as deep either. So judging by the claw markings, teeth indentations and jaw width, I’m confident in saying it’s a non-magical werewolf. Thankfully for us.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And why should we be thankful? Have you dealt with a non-magical werewolf before?”

“Yes, several, and they were all in their wolf forms. When we eventually face a magical werewolf, then you’ll understand why I’m glad this case is a non-magical werewolf.”

~000~000~000~

“Magical or non-magical?” Sam asked, typing away at his laptop as Dean and Hermione walked into their shared motel room.

“Non-magical,” Hermione confirmed. “I took a sample from the victims’ bodies, I’m hoping I can use any trace saliva from the bite wounds to track the one responsible.”

“You can do that?” He asked surprised.

“Possibly, it’s not exact due to the lupine DNA, but I’m hoping there’s enough human DNA to point us in the right direction.”

“It’ll be a lot easier than having to go through the medical records of everyone in this town,” Dean commented. “You know, since you’ve come along, our job has been far easier.”

“I have my uses,” she replied and they snorted at her; that was putting it lightly.

“I’ve found something interesting,” Sam said, frowning slightly at the screen in front of him. “There’s been five victims right?”

“So far,” Hermione nodded. “Different genders, ages, physical characteristics and appearances as expected with werewolf victims, they’re random attacks.”

“That’s what’s interesting,” he replied and they both looked to him expectantly. “I don’t think these attacks are random. They’re names have all popped up in police records over the last two years.”

“That’s doesn’t connect them, we’re in a small town,” Dean pointed out.

“I’m trying to hack into the records so I can dig deeper; it’s not specified why they were named.”

~000~000~000~

“I’m bored,” Dean groaned from his place sprawled out on one of the beds.

“Shut up, just give me five more minutes,” Sam replied.

“You’ve been saying that for the last hour.”

Sam glared at him over the top of his laptop.

“Leave your brother alone,” Hermione rolled her eyes, as she flipped through a random magazine she’d found in their motel room.

“Alright, I’m in.”

“It’s about time,” Dean muttered, sitting up straight and dodging the TV remote that Sam threw at him.

“Shut up.”

“The victims?” Hermione encouraged.

“Right, it seems two of them were suspects in two separate hit and run cases and the other three were witnesses.” He frowned slightly, before going quiet. “I’ve managed to get into their banking records and the three witnesses each had ten thousand dollars transferred into the account three days after the incidents.”

“That’s interesting,” Dean said thoughtfully. “So what we thinking, they witnessed the incident and were paid off to lie?”

“Looks like it, the money looks to have been put into the accounts manually and under a bogus name. The suspects of both cases were never charged as it couldn’t be proved either way.”

“It’s strange that they’re connected and they’ve all been attacked,” Dean said.

“I’ve heard of a few rare occurrences were a non-magical werewolf could feel the pain of the human side during the full moon. The werewolf can tap into the human’s memory, and if it found the source of the pain, it would do whatever it could to eliminate it. But like I said, it’s rare, from what I can remember reading, there’s only been five known cases in the last few decades,” Hermione explained.

“Well, I think we may have our guy,” Sam commented. “We may not need you to track it for us after all.”

“Why not?” They both asked.

“Peter Greene,” he replied.

“And?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“He’s the victim of both hit and run cases.”

“Do I want to even know how that’s possible?” Hermione asked.

“The first incident took place two years ago, his injuries weren’t too severe and he was released from hospital after a few days. The driver was never charged, and the two witnesses called the emergency services and gave a description of a car that isn’t owned by anyone in the town.”

“Okay,” Hermione nodded in understanding.

“And less than a year ago, the second incident took place, only this time he not only nearly died, it’s stated that a ‘bear’ found him and almost mauled him to death, he would’ve died if it hadn’t of been for the deer hunter that had witnessed the incident and called the emergency services.”

“That’s some bad luck, being run over twice _and_ attacked by a werewolf, I think I actually feel sorry for the guy,” Dean spoke.

“Again, the driver was never charged and the witness gave a bogus description of the car, the money appeared in their accounts three days later.”

“The driver, was it the same person?”

“No, but it appears they were related, uncle and nephew, and from what I can see, they’ve got a bit of money behind them.”

“So they have the money and means to protect themselves,” Hermione replied.

“But not from a werewolf,” Dean pointed out. “So these attacks were revenge killings. Does this mean it’s over?”

“No, if magical werewolves run free at the full moon and humans are nearby they’ll kill, if a non-magical werewolf runs free they’ll seek out a victim to kill,” Hermione said. “Only the victims won’t be connected.”

“See that’s the thing,” Sam interrupted. “The first responding officer on the scene is the same for both incidences.”

“And?” Dean said.

“And during the last incident it had been snowing heavily beforehand, the tread marks in the snow should’ve been identifiable.”

“But they weren’t?” Dean guessed.

“No, it looked as though they’d been destroyed, and a week later twenty-five thousand dollars appeared in the officer’s account.”

“So he covered it up for a payoff, which means if we don’t confirm the identity of the werewolf before the next full moon, the officer is the next target.”

“More than likely, I’ll pull up Greene’s home address.”

~000~000~000~

Hermione stared down at the dead body of Peter Greene, the non-magical werewolf. He lay sprawled on the ground, his eyes open and with a silver bullet in his head.

They hadn’t gone there to kill him, they’d gone to talk to him, to confirm a few details before they came up with a solution that didn’t involve death, and unfortunately, it hadn’t gone to plan.

They’d only been inside the house five minutes when Greene returned from the kitchen with his eyes glowing orange, something the brothers hadn’t seen before but Hermione had. The dormant werewolf in Greene had recognised her for what she was, and seeing her as a threat, he lunged straight for her neck.

Admittedly, Hermione hadn’t expected his wolf to come forward with him only being a non-magical werewolf, and for this reason, he took her by surprise and she wasn’t fast enough with her Stunner. Her wand was knocked to the ground and she was pressed up against the wall, her breathing being cut off by the hands squeezing her windpipe.

In the seconds that followed, Sam had pried Greene off her and they tumbled to the ground, struggling for the upper hand, which Greene had, though instead of killing Sam, he went straight for her again.

By the time she’d summoned her wand into her outstretched hand, Greene was lying on the ground, dead, with a silver bullet in his head and Dean was stood on the other side of the room with the gun in his hand and looking murderous.

Why did everything have to go wrong?

She sighed. “Well, that wasn’t planned.”

“What happened?” Sam asked, standing up from the floor and brushing himself down. “I’ve never seen their eyes do that before, and they’ve never been that strong before either.”

“It’s partially my fault, the dormant wolf inside Greene recognised me for what I was and it saw me as a threat to Greene, so I had to be eliminated. The eyes and the strength belonged to the wolf.” They blinked in surprise. “I suppose we better get this place cleaned up and get out of here before someone comes looking for him.”

~000~000~000~

**Three weeks later...**

“I hate magical werewolves!” Dean yelled, as they were being chased through the woods on the night of the full moon by a werewolf. “Give me back the other ones!”

“I told you so!” Hermione shouted back, whilst throwing a spell over her shoulder to slow down the werewolf chasing them.

“It’s fucking huge!” Sam called from somewhere on the left.

“It’s not, it’s only a pup!” Hermione replied.

“PUP!” Both brothers shouted in surprise.

“Yes, adults are twice as big!”

“Give me back non-magical werewolves!” Dean pleaded through a shout.

Seeing that the werewolf was gaining on them Hermione put on a burst of speed, looking over her shoulder she saw the werewolf stumble clumsily in its steps, confirming her suspicions. It was its first change.

She jumped over a large root sticking up from the ground, and she heard a loud ‘thud.’ She turned, seeing that the werewolf hadn’t seen the root, it had tripped over it, rolled and slammed into a tree.

Hermione came to a sudden stop and spun around, turning to face the werewolf and before it could attempt to lunge for her, she threw three spells in succession, each one hitting its target perfectly and the werewolf collapsed to the floor. She wasted no time in throwing up wards, connecting them to four trees on each side of the werewolf, allowing it space to move should it wake again, but not allowing it chance to escape.

Sam and Dean came to stand on either side of her; both breathing heavily and looking at the werewolf slumped on the floor.

“Nice shot, Glinda,” Dean commented, bending over and pressing his hands to his knees as he tried to get his breath back.

“A pup?” Sam questioned, leaning against a tree for support and trying to get his breath back.

“Yes, it’s too small to be an adult.”

“An adult werewolf or an adult wizard?” Dean asked.

“Both,” she said sadly. “Judging by the size, I say it can’t be more than twelve.”

Dean and Sam blinked, having never dealt with a werewolf so young, or a magical one for that matter.

“This isn’t the one we’re after.”

“What makes you say that?” Sam frowned.

“Tonight was its first change. Its instincts were to kill us for being in its territory, but it was clumsy with its movements, as if it wasn’t used to having four legs or running on all fours. It didn’t know how to use its senses properly either, if it had, it wouldn’t have been so easy to take it down.”

“Easy? You call that easy?” Dean said disbelievingly.

“Yes, it was very easy, in fact, one of the easiest takedowns I’ve had.”

“I want non-magical werewolf cases back,” he said and she snorted, whilst Sam nodded in agreement.

“So what happens now?” Sam asked.

Hermione sighed. “Thankfully the laws regarding werewolf kind aren’t as strict here in the US. We’ll have to wait for him to change back, the transformation’s painful and he’s going to be scared and confused. I’ll take him to the Ministry and they’ll get a healer to check him over, after that his parents will be contacted and they’ll discuss ways to manage his lycanthropy; with him being so young he still has a chance at life.”

“We’ve never seen a werewolf transformation,” Sam said thoughtfully.

“It’s not pleasant,” she responded, before sitting herself down on the floor and getting comfortable; they had a long wait ahead of them.

~000~000~000~

Hermione hadn’t realised she’d fallen asleep until she was woken suddenly by an agonised scream.

She sprang upright with her wand in her hand and her eyes searched her surroundings, seeing both Dean and Sam looking horrified as the werewolf went through the transformation. Hermione tore down the wards and ran over to the little boy on the floor, before pulling him into her arms and she hugged him tightly, rocking them slightly and humming into his ear until the last shocks of pain died down.

Hermione pulled a blanket from her beaded bag and wrapped it around the little boy, because that’s what he was, a little boy. He was younger than Hermione had thought he’d be, she’d expected him to be at least old enough to attend a wizarding school, when in reality he couldn’t have been older than nine years. His blonde hair was messy with a few twigs sticking out of it, and his brown eyes were filled with tears.

“What’s your name, Sweetie?” Hermione asked softly, seeing the little boy’s eyes drooping.

“Joe,” he rasped weakly.

“Joe, I’m Hermione.”

“I’ve seen you before,” he muttered.

She chuckled. “Possibly, I’m Hermione Granger.”

His eyes widened, before dropping once more. “Wow! What’s happened to me?”

She gave him a sad look. “Werewolf.” He started crying and she hugged him to her tightly. “It’s okay, everything going to be okay. Gryffindor Princess Promise,” she muttered. “I’m going to take you somewhere safe and when you wake up, your parents will be with you.”

She summoned a Pain Potion, followed by a Dreamless Sleep Potion, and he took both potions without complaint and within minutes he was asleep.

She made sure he was wrapped up tightly before holding her hand out expectantly, and without having to clarify what she wanted, Sam pressed his phone into her hand, and she dialled the number for The American Ministry.

“Head Auror Hermione Granger of the MLE and Auror Department of Muggles for the British Ministry of Magic...I really don’t have time to answer any questions right now...I need you to put me in contact with the Heads of the Magical Transportation Department and the RCMC Department...I’m sorry, but I have a little boy in quite a lot pain and...Listen, you bloody prat, I don’t have time to answer your highly personal questions, my relationship with my husband is private and not for the eyes or ears of anyone else, now I suggest you put Rogers and Farrow on the phone or I’ll personally apparate over there and hex the shit out of you...It’s about fucking time.”

Dean and Sam remained silent, though snorts escaped them a few times.

“Yes, it was necessary Farrow, the bloody arsehole was being highly unprofessional, I have a newly turned lycanthrope and I need to get him seen to as soon as possible...I only know his first name, Joe, as for his age, I’d say about nine...Exactly, if I ever meet that stupid moron I’m hexing his mouth shut...I don’t doubt they will...Yes, Rogers, I need you to approve my use of a port key, it’ll take me a few minutes to set one up and I’ll head straight over...Yes, he’s more than likely going to need a healer, he had no injuries that I can see, but you know as well as I the transformation can do a number on the internal organs...Alright, I’ll be no more than ten minutes.”

Hermione hung the phone up and gave it back to Sam, before picking up a rock and turning it into a port key.

“You should head back to the motel, I don’t know how long I’m going to be but I’m not leaving Joe until his parents are found and we need more information before that can happen.”

She flicked her wand and Joe levitated off the ground, she took hold of his wrist and then the port key activated.

~000~000~000~

**Two weeks later...**

“I hate magical werewolves,” Dean said, looking down at the wizard tied to a tree.

“Do you?” Hermione said sarcastically. “It’s not like you’ve mentioned it twenty-three times before.” Sam snorted and Dean scowled. “At least it isn’t a full moon, or this would’ve been a lot more difficult.”

“What’s going to happen to him?” Sam nodded to the middle-aged man who was wearing tattered looking wizarding robes.

“Likely prison.”

“For being a werewolf?”

“No, for murdering four muggles, for infecting a child against their will and for trying to kill us when we found him. This has got nothing to do with his lycanthropy, but with the decisions he’s made.” She turned her head to see the wizard glaring at her. “Oh don’t look at me like that; you got yourself into this mess. One muggle could’ve been forgiven if you had returned to the Wizarding World and reported what you’d done, but you killed a further three, changed a nine-year-old boy and tried to kill us. You’re the one at fault here, not me.”

Dean smiled smugly at the wizard before leaning against a tree, only to slip and fall to the ground. Sam burst out laughing.

“God help me, I married an idiot,” Hermione sighed.


	79. Chapter 79

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 9

**Two weeks later...**

“Come on, Glinda, we have to speak to the victim’s families whilst Sam heads to the morgue,” Dean said.

He walked over to the bed and sat himself down on the edge beside Hermione, who was currently curled up in a ball and cocooned in the duvet.

“Can you handle it on your own today?” She replied, her voice muffled by the fact the duvet was pulled over her head.

“Why? You not feeling well?” He questioned.

He pulled the covers back from her head to see she had a pinched look on her face, and he pressed his hand against her forehead.

“You do feel a little warm,” he muttered.

“I feel sick, my back hurts, I have cramps and I swear that shrimp I ate last night was dodgy.” He frowned. “Food poising and my period all in one day, why does God hate me!” She cried, pulling the blanket over her head.

Dean thought she was being a little dramatic but he was smart enough to not voice his thoughts.

“Alright, get some rest and I’ll bring you soup for lunch.”

“And chocolate.”

“I don’t really think you should be eating chocolate if you feel sick.”

“I want chocolate,” she said, pulling the cover away from her face to scowl at him.

“Alright, I’ll bring you chocolate,” he held his hands up. ”Sammy’s waiting so I better go, but I’ll be back soon, alright?” She nodded. “Good, get some rest.” He kissed her forehead before leaving the room, hearing the lock on the door, meaning Hermione had locked it magically.

~000~000~000~

By the time he’d spoken to the victims’ families and Sam had visited the morgue, it was after lunch and they headed to a diner to pick up some food, Dean getting Hermione soup, some chocolate and for extra bonus points, he got her a slice of chocolate fudge cake, knowing it was her favourite.

When they walked into the motel room the sound of Hermione throwing up in the bathroom met their ears. Sam’s eyes widened and he turned to look at Dean.

“Oh My God! Is she pregnant!” He whispered.

“I wish,” Dean muttered. “No, she’s got food poisoning,” he said, before making his way towards the bathroom as he heard the toilet flushing and the tap running in the sink.

He frowned when he saw Hermione, stood leaning against the wall and brushing her teeth. Her skin was sickly pale and he could see she’d sweated through her t-shirt, her hair stuck to her forehead and the back of her neck, and Dean knew if she hadn’t have been leaning against the wall, she would be on the floor. She hadn’t looked nearly as bad when he left a few hours ago.

“How are you feeling?” She glared at him weakly through the mirror. ”I see,” he spoke.

He walked over to her, lifting his hand to gauge her temperature and feeling that she was far hotter than she’d been that morning. She swayed on her feet and he caught her before she hit the floor.

“Sorry, went dizzy,” she mumbled, still with her toothbrush in her mouth.

He frowned, before helping her to sit on the toilet so she couldn’t fall. He closed the door behind him and made his way to the shower, switching it on and making sure the temperature was cool to help bring her temperature down. He then walked over to her and without speaking, he stripped her of her clothing and lifted her into the shower, seeing that she slumped down until she sat on the floor and she wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them to her chest.

Dean balled up the dirty clothing to be put away and he stuck his head out of the bathroom, seeing Sam sat at the table and working on his laptop.

“Sammy, pass me a clean shirt, would you?”

“She not doing well?” Sam asked, moving from the table to dig through Dean’s duffle bag, pulling out a clean t-shirt and throwing it to him.

“No, high temperature, vomiting, dizzy spells, she can’t even stand without falling over.” Sam winced in sympathy. Dean looked down at the t-shirt in his hand. “I need underwear, too.”

Sam paled. “No, there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to go digging through her stuff for underwear. There are some things in my life I don’t need to see or know, and discovering the type of underwear my sister-in-law prefers is high on that list.”

“Easy, lace and silk, and they always match her bras, too,” Dean shrugged. Sam made a whining sound and covered his ears. “Relax, she’s on her period, she’s not going to want either of those.” Sam’s face paled further and he whined louder. “Just find her a pair of granny pants, would you?”

“No, I can’t do it,” he shook his head. “I can’t bring myself to go anywhere near her bag at the moment, let alone her underwear.”

“Oh for the love of...” Dean muttered. “Then come over here and stand watch.”

“I don’t think so,” Sam said with wide eyes.

Dean rolled his eyes. “As if I’d let you anywhere near my naked wife, you idiot. Just stand by the door and listen for any shouts or falls.”

Sam sighed, before begrudgingly moving over to the bathroom door, standing beside it whilst Dean rummaged through Hermione’s beaded bag until he found a white cotton bra and black cotton underwear, which she reserved for wearing when on her period. He knew; she’d forced him to go shopping with her and it was not something he wanted to experience again.

He disappeared into the bathroom and Sam looked relieved to be able to get as far away from it as possible. Dean helped Hermione out of the shower and since she was too weak to cast any magic, he dried her with a towel, helping her to dress and piling her hair on top of her head and securing it in a bobble for her. He turned around and left the room, allowing Hermione to deal with the whole tampon situation by herself, since that was where he drew the line. There were some things in his life he didn’t need to see his wife doing, and that was one of them.

After a few minutes, he heard her weakly calling his name and he re-entered the bathroom, picking her up and carrying her back to their bed and covering her with the duvet.

“Will you get me, Mina?” She asked tiredly.

“Mina?” Se questioned confused.

Rather than doing it himself, seeing as he had no idea what she was talking about, he retrieved her beaded bag and allowed her to find it herself. When she pulled her hand back, he was surprised to see an old looking, but a well-kept teddy bear. It was fairly big and light brown with long fur, blue eyes and a pink nose. She tucked it under the blanket and held it against her like a small child would.

“You’re twenty-seven and have a teddy bear?” Dean asked amused.

“Shut up,” she mumbled. “I’ve had her since I was a baby; my dad bought her for me when he found out my mum was pregnant with a girl. I was spoilt as a child since I was my parents’ miracle baby after they’d had so many miscarriages before me. I was a premature baby and I barely survived. So leave Mina alone, I only use her when I’m ill.”

“Use her as much as you want, Sweetheart,” Dean said softly.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked from across the room.

“Shit,” she mumbled.

“I brought you soup,” Dean said, reaching out with his hand to see if her temperature had gone down from her shower. It had a little but not as much as he would’ve liked.

“I’m not hungry and I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it down anyway,” she muttered.

“Alright, Glinda, you get some rest,” he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead. She was asleep within minutes and he left her side to sit at the table with Sam, going over what they’d learned so far.

~000~000~000~

“Burn the body?”

“Can’t, he was cremated,” Sam replied.

“Awesome,” Dean sighed. “So now we need to find what Peters has attached himself to.”

“I think I already know what it is, I’ve been looking through some of the social media of the victims, and I’ve noticed that on some of the photos they all have the same item.”

Dean frowned and Sam turned the laptop around, allowing him to look through the photos Sam had left up.

“The flask,” Dean said, noticing that in each of the victims’ photos, the same flask was present.

“Exactly, these are college kids, the flask likely got passed around at parties and whoever had it last was killed.”

“Which means we need to find the next victim before Peters kills them,” Dean spoke.

“That’ll be fun. Well, at least we’ve narrowed it down to the college.”

“Yeah, that’s only a couple of thousand students, it’s a piece of cake,” Dean said sarcastically.

“Dean?” He heard Hermione say.

He turned in his seat to see her half asleep and leaning up on her forearm to better see him.

“Yeah, Sweetheart?”

“I love pie,” she said.

Dean frowned. “I love pie, too,” he replied.

“Okay,” she mumbled, before laying back down and falling quiet.

Sam started sniggering. “Great, she’s sleep talking now, too.”

“Leave her alone, Sammy, or I’ll break your nose,” Dean warned.

“You don’t do this for me when I’m sick,” he pointed out.

“You’re not my wife.”

Sam hummed. “What are you getting her for Christmas?”

“What?” Dean blinked.

“Christmas? You heard what she said, we’re celebrating the holidays whether we like it or not. It’s Christmas in a couple of weeks.”

“We didn’t celebrate Halloween or Thanksgiving,” Dean said.

“She hates Halloween, it’s the day Harry’s parents were murdered, and she’s British, they don’t celebrate Thanksgiving,” Sam shrugged. “Now stop avoiding the question, what are you getting her for Christmas?”

“I don’t know, what are you getting her?”

“Not sure yet,” Sam admitted.

“Well, shite, I can’t get her the same as I did for her birthday. I was hoping you’d give me an idea.”

“So was I. Anyway, back to the flask.”

~000~000~000~

They’d heard news of there being several frat parties and had left Hermione –who was still sleeping- to search for the flask, they hadn’t been lucky.

They returned to the motel for the night, Dean woke Hermione long enough for her to drink some water to keep her hydrated.

“Don’t you have a potion for this?” He asked her, pushing some of her now dried curls that had broken free from their restraint away from her face.

“No,” she handed him the glass. “Every chef and cook in the Wizarding World actually knows what they’re doing, we don’t get food poising from restaurants and the like.” Dean snorted as she laid back down. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you busy?”

“Why?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Can I have a cuddle?”

Dean felt his heart melt and she had an adorable little sulky pout on her face. Without thought, he kicked off his shoes and shifted on the bed until he laid down behind her and he wrapped her up in his arms.

“Get some sleep, Sweetheart, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I doubt it,” she muttered.

~000~000~000~

“Where’s Hermione when you need her!” Sam yelled from his position hiding behind a couch as he dodged the flying knives, courtesy of the ghost trying to kill him.

“In bed with food poisoning!” Dean shouted back, from his place ducked down behind a turned over table. He flinched when an axe lodged itself in the wood, stopping millimetres from his face. “This bastard just threw a fucking axe at me! Where did he even get a fucking axe!”

“Shit!” He heard Sam yell, but he didn’t dare move from behind the table to see what was happening. “Well, the fucker just threw a chain saw at me!”

“I’m getting sick of this shit! Where’s the flask!”

“I dropped it outside!”

“Of course you did,” Dean muttered.

He peeked over the table, only to duck as a fire poker went straight over his head, getting stuck in the wall. His eyes searched the room, landing on a window and he winced at what he was about to do. It was a stupid idea, one he knew Hermione would scold him for when she was better.

“Sammy, cover me!”

He didn’t wait for a response, he stood and ran for the window, barrelling straight through it with the glass shattering around him, and he slammed into the floor, rolling to a stop. Much to his luck, he landed with the flask in front of him. He picked it up and fished out his lighter from his pocket, and using the alcohol still inside the flask, he set it on fire and dropped it to the ground, watching with satisfaction as it burned.

A few minutes later Sam was beside him.

“I’ve never realised how much easier things are when Hermione’s here,” he frowned.

“I don’t know how we survived before meeting her,” Dean chuckled.

“Poorly,” Sam nodded. “Have you noticed we don’t get injured as much?”

“That shield of hers is handy,” Dean agreed.

“And she’s rather good at covering our tracks,” Sam tilted his head. “Honestly, I’m trying to think of how we survived without her and I can’t think of anything.”

Dean snorted. “Let’s get back to her; I want to see if her temperature’s gone down.”

~000~000~000~

They entered the motel to the sounds of Hermione throwing up in the bathroom.

“Still? It’s been two days _and_ two nights,” Sam frowned.

“I know.”

“Are you sure she’s not pregnant?”

“Yes, she did a test before she got her period.”

Sam grimaced. “I wish I never asked,” he muttered.

~000~000~000~

“How’s she doing?” Bobby asked Dean over the phone.

“We’re on day three and she’s still in bed, but we’ve made it through half the day without her throwing up, I’m going to try and get some food into her. Sammy’s gone out to buy a toaster and some bread; I’m not risking her with anything else.”

“Look, Dean, I’m going to be blunt. Is she pregnant?”

“No, she took a test and it was negative.”

“You sound disappointed,” Bobby noted, having no idea that Hermione and Dean had been trying for a baby for well over six months.

“Sam hasn’t told you?” Dean frowned, having assumed that his big-mouthed brother who couldn’t keep a secret would’ve already told Bobby about their baby-making plans.

“Told me what?”

Dean sighed and prepared himself for Bobby’s reaction. “Hermione and I have been trying for a baby for over six months.” The line went quiet, until he heard Bobby having a coughing fit. “You alright, Bobby?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Crap, Dean, a baby?”

“Why’d you say it like that?” Dean frowned.

“It’s just... a _baby_. They cry, sleep and shit everywhere.”

“Yes, thank you for that, Bobby, I didn’t know what a baby was,” Dean said sarcastically before frowning. “Look, Sam had the same reaction when I told him of our decision to try for kids, but he supported us. Hermione wants nothing more than to have a family and I want that, too, and I can give it to her. I’m shitting myself and worried that I’ll mess up, but I still want to have a family with her. You know as well as I that the hunting life is dangerous and we made the decision early on in our relationship for that reason, but we’ve never once changed our minds about what we want as time’s gone on. After spending time with Harry’s kids, it’s made me realise how committed I am to Hermione and any children we have. And every time she takes a test and it’s negative, I find myself feeling disappointed, but then I know it’ll happen when it’s meant to, Cas said so, and so did the unicorn.”

“Unico... I’m not even going to ask,” he muttered.

“Yes, unicorn, it’s a long story,” Dean sighed. “I’m still scared of what’s to come, but I’m ready to be a father. The kids showed me what I needed to see, they showed me how my responsibilities and priorities need to change to better their needs and safety, and fucking hell, you need to have eyes in the back of your head!” Bobby snorted. “I know it’s going to be difficult given the life we have, but we’ll make it work and our children won’t have the life Sammy and I had, I’ll make sure of it. You may not approve of our decision but...”

“I didn’t say I didn’t approve,” Bobby interrupted. “I’ve seen a difference in you, you’ve grown up a lot since meeting Missy; she’s good for you. I see the way you take care of her, and you haven’t stopped talking about those kids for weeks. I’m proud of you and I always have been. Whether or not you have children is yours and Missy’s decision and no one else’s, especially mine. But if you do have children, I’m sure you’ll be a good dad to those kids. You were to Sam.”

Dean couldn’t form a response.

“I know you’re worried but between you and Missy, you’ll keep your babies safe, and it helps you have Sam, me, Castiel and the entire horde that is Missy’s family.”

Dean snorted. “Fuck Bobby, there’s hundred’s of them! They make up half the population of gingers alone!”

Bobby snorted. “Idjit, now get Missy better.”

“Working on it.”

~000~000~000~

“Move out the way,” Dean muttered.

He pushed Sam off the chair and away from the laptop, so he could search the internet for any way to help Hermione get over her food poisoning. In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have searched the internet for answers, since it brought up treatment from pain killers to chemotherapy, suggesting Hermione had cancer. Dean sighed and shut the laptop after thirty minutes of useless tips.

“She’ll be fine,” Sam said.

“I hate seeing her like this.”

“She’s getting better, she hasn’t thrown up today and she’s kept down the toast she had earlier on.”

“But she’s still got a temperature.”

“Well, yeah, she’s wrapped up in the bedsheets _and_ a blanket, of course she’s hot,” he rolled his eyes.

~000~000~000~

“Hey, how you feeling?” Dean asked Hermione.

She turned over in bed to face him and she had a smile on her face. “Better, much better. I think I’m finally over it all.”

“Yeah?” He asked softly, pushing her hair back from her face.

She yawned and nodded, making him chuckle. “Yeah, I’m hungry.”

“She’s fine!” Sam called from the bathroom and she scowled.

“Good, we’ll go out for breakfast and you can have as many pancakes as you want, and we’ll buy you an entire chocolate fudge cake.”

Hermione sighed. “Best husband ever. Taking care of me when I’m sick, and feeding me when I’m better.”

“Don’t kid yourself.” Sam came out of the bathroom and leaned against the door frame with a smirk on his face. “He’s just doing it to keep you happy; you’re a bitch when you’re hungry... Shit!” He cursed, ducking as a hex whizzed over his shoulder and it slammed into the wall in the bathroom.

Sam stared at her.

“She’s fine,” Dean agreed, grinning widely at having his wife back.


	80. Chapter 80

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 13

**Two weeks later...**

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, stopping Hermione in front of their motel room door.

“What for?” She questioned with a frown.

“I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend your Christmas, in a motel room and covered in, whatever this stuff is,” he grimaced.

He looked down at himself, seeing that he was covered in sewage and waste as they’d chased a vampire into the sewers. Sam was the worst off and Hermione wasn’t far off, since she’d tripped and fallen to her knees in the disgusting filth, whereas Sam had slipped and fallen back into it.

Dean couldn’t deny that even covered in sewage, Hermione had been beautiful in her annoyance and anger at the vampire for dragging them down to the sewers, and she took his head off with one quick and precise spell. He hadn’t even seen it coming.

Hermione had spelled them as clean as she could in order to prevent them from dirtying up Baby and in the end, she’d cast Ventilation Charms to help keep the smell out of the car, and she’d cast a spell on the leather seats to protect them from the smell and sewage, too.

“Dean, I don’t care where we are, all that matters is that we’re together. This is our first Christmas together. If it meant we were together, I’d spend it in the bloody sewers we’ve just come from. I’m more than happy having Christmas in a grungy motel room, so long as I have you with me.”

“I’d kiss you but...”

“Shower first,” she nodded. “Sam, get a move on!” Hermione called over her shoulder.

“Alright, I’m coming, keep your witch’s hat on,” he called back.

Hermione would wait until they were in the motel room to hex him.

“What hex you going to use?” Dean asked knowingly.

“One that the protection runes won’t defend against,” she said with a dark look to her face. Dean snorted.

When Sam reached them, Hermione pressed her wand to the door and it swung open and the brothers stepped inside, looking around with wide, surprised eyes, and even Hermione had to admit the house-elves had outdone themselves.

The ceiling was covered in hanging decorations, Christmas lights covered the walls and windows, and there was an eight-foot-tall Christmas tree sat in the corner and it barely fit in the room. It was decorated beautifully with red, silver and gold baubles and tinsel and the star that sat atop the tree twinkled brightly. And it wouldn’t be Christmas without the fairies flittering about the room or the snow that fell from the ceiling before disappearing just before it landed on their heads. 

“Merry Christmas, boys, and welcome to your first magical Christmas,” Hermione said softly.

They turned around to stare at her, speechless.

“How?” Sam muttered.

“The house-elves,” she smiled. “They couldn’t not decorate this place once they’d learned we weren’t returning home for Christmas.”

“It’s amazing,” he said in awe, his eyes looking up to the ceiling, seeing the snow and... “Are those what I think they are?”

“Yes, real-life fairies. They’re fairy lights,” she giggled.

They blinked dumbly.

~000~000~000~

“Present time,” Hermione said excitedly

She jumped on the bed beside Dean, dressed in the ugliest pair of Christmas pyjamas the brothers had ever seen, but they didn’t mention that seeing how happy she was. She was positively glowing with the biggest grin they’d ever seen on her face.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Sam said confused.

“I know, but it won’t be in five minutes, and I forgot to tell you, we’re going to The Burrow for Christmas dinner. Mimsy’s going to pick us up, we’ll floo over and once we’re finished, we’ll floo back and Mimsy will bring us back here, we’ll be gone a few hours,” she shrugged. “And Bobby’s coming, too.”

“Does Bobby know Bobby’s coming?” Dean asked amused.

“Not yet,” she grinned.

“He won’t be happy,” he chuckled.

“He will be when he tastes Molly’s cooking. Besides, it’s time our pseudo-parents met each other, and I know the kids are just dying to meet him.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, now that’s something I can’t wait to see,” he smirked.

She grinned in response, before looking over to the alarm clock, seeing it change to midnight.

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” She exclaimed loudly.

She jumped off the bed and dived towards the tree for the small collection of presents gathered underneath. The brothers shared a look of amusement before reluctantly leaving their beds and following after Hermione to the Christmas tree. They helped her move the presents over to the small couch and table in the room, and they sat down whilst Hermione conjured herself a large, oversized armchair, maroon in colour and much like the ones that could be found in the Gryffindor common room.

She leaned over and separated the presents into three piles, hers, Sam’s and Dean’s, though there weren’t many seeing as the gifts were from each other and no one else, but they’d get the rest when they visited Bobby and the Burrow the next day.

“Who goes first?” Sam asked confused.

“No one, dive in,” she said, before snagging her own small pile of gifts and shifting in her seat, pulling her legs up and crossing them and dropping her pile of gifts into her lap. And despite her words, they both waited to open their gifts until she was done with hers.

She started with Sam’s seeing as it was the largest. She opened it up to see an A4 ring bound book and the title on the front had her snorting. ‘Hunting 101 for Dummies.’ But then she looked closer and her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Written for Hermione Winchester, by her favourite Winchester brother, Samuel Winchester.’

She blinked back the tears as she flicked through the book, quickly understanding that he hadn’t bought her it. He’d _made_ it for her. Now she knew why he’d spent so much time on his laptop and why he’d been so secretive about it. It included a quick explanation of the supernatural beings they dealt with along with photos and diagrams, there were explanations on the different types of weapons used along with pictures, and a list of code words and unwritten rules she needed to learn should something go wrong and they were forced to split up.

“Are you crying?” She heard Sam ask.

“No,” she denied quickly, wiping at her eyes. “I’ve got fairy dust in my eye.”

Sam snorted. “That’s one I haven’t heard before.”

“Something you haven’t heard, what a surprise,” she said sarcastically, since Sam could never keep his big ears out of other peoples’ conversations and Dean snorted whilst Sam scowled. “And I hate it,” she told him, holding her gift up to him for him to see.

“I thought you might.”

“Like seriously, I really, really hate it.”

“Well I’m glad you really, really, hate it,” he replied with a straight face.

“I do, thank you,” she nodded, before putting it to the side and picking up his second gift to her.

She opened the wrapping and removed the lid from the box, blinking when she saw the contents. It was a silver hunting knife with a black handle, and her initials ‘HW’ were carved on either side of the blade. She blinked back the tears yet again.

She looked to him in surprise. “You’re rather good with knives, you’re one of us; it’s time you had one of your own,” Sam said.

“What’d you get?” Dean asked curiously. Hermione tilted the box so Dean could see and he nodded in approval. “Nice choice,” he complimented.

“Thanks,” Sam tilted his head.

“Thank you, I hate it.”

“I’m glad you hate it,” he said seriously.

Hermione then moved onto the final two gifts and they were from Dean. She opened the largest first, removing the lid from the box and blinking at what she saw. A grey-black handgun. A Glock 19 to be more specific, and just like her knife, ‘HW’ had been monogrammed in silver lettering.

“You remembered?” She said quietly, surprised that he’d remembered something she’d said to him so long ago and she felt her eyes beginning to water.

“Of course I did,” he frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

He made a surprised sound when she was gone from the armchair and sat in his lap, hugging him tightly as she silently cried. He seemed confused by her reaction but hugged her back.

“No one has ever cared enough to remember something I said, especially after so long of saying it,” she whispered and he understood the meaning to her words and he hugged her tighter. “I love pie.”

“I love pie, too,” he mumbled, placing a kiss to her neck.

“A Glock 19?” Sam questioned.

Hermione wiped at her eyes before pulling back from Dean to look at Sam sat beside him.

“She prefers it over the Beretta,” Dean answered.

Hermione nodded. “Yes, better durability, accuracy and versatility, and it’s easy to conceal.”

Sam blinked in surprise. “Dean said you can shoot.”

“I’m alright,” she shrugged.

Dean rolled his eyes. “From what I saw, you’re more than alright.”

Hermione shrugged once more before climbing off his lap and moving back to her armchair. She reached to pick up the final gift from Dean but he stopped her.

“Wait.”

“What is it?”

He looked nervous, and Sam noticed it, too. “Don’t open it yet, wait until tomorrow.”

“Why?” She frowned.

“Please just wait,” he all but begged.

“Okay,” she said slowly, putting the small gift back on the table and sharing a confused look with Sam.

The brothers both turned their attention to their gifts and they opened theirs from the other, amusing Hermione to see they’d gotten each other ammunition for their guns, which they were happy with. And then they turned to Hermione’s gifts and they picked up the same ones.

When they opened it they blinked, before they both removed the hunting knives that sat on the silk cushion in the box. They could tell from the moment they picked them up that something was different about the hunting knives. They were lighter than they remembered any weapon being, including a pocket knife, and the grip on the handle was perfect so they couldn’t accidentally drop it. The blade on the knife was silver and it looked to have strange markings etched into it, the handle was gold but it looked more bronze in colour and there sat a small ruby at the top of the handle.

They both looked to her in surprise.

“These aren’t just any hunting knives, as I’m sure you can tell.” They both nodded. “These are goblin made, which is one of the best quality and most expensive producers of weapons and jewellery, and there aren’t many made. I had to pull a lot of strings to get those knives made; they’re handcrafted by the goblins themselves. Goblin made weapons are special due to the fact they’re able to absorb the properties of anything they come into contact with.”

“Meaning?” Sam asked, looking at the knife in his hand in amazement.

“Meaning, should you dissolve some salt in water and put the tip of the knife in the water, it’ll absorb the properties of the salt. Should you put the knife in holy water, it’ll absorb the properties of that, too, and then you have a weapon you can use against demons.” They both blinked. “You’ll only have to do this once and the properties will remain imbued in the knives for as long as they are in existence, and they can absorb as many properties as you wish them to, and of course the blade is silver, I specifically asked for that. And now, the ruby...”

“Fuck! It’s real? I just thought it was for show,” Dean muttered.

“No, they’re real, so keep an eye on your knives, goblin made weapons are expensive enough, especially with it being custom made for you, too, and the rubies only add to the price. The knives in your hands are invaluable.” They stared. “Anyway, the rubies are there for a reason, in the Wizarding World we believe that precious gemstones each have their own properties and purposes, rubies are said to help ease worries and fear, and to give strength and courage, as well as fire and passion. It represents health, life, love and protection.”

They were speechless and it wasn’t often that happened.

“What’s wrong with us?” Hermione said. “Is it sad we bought each other weapons for Christmas?”

“No,” Dean replied.

“A little,” Sam nodded and Hermione snorted.

They thanked her for the knives and she smiled before they went for their last gift from her.

“Headphones?” Sam questioned.

“Not just any headphones, magical noise-cancelling headphones,” she corrected. “I’ve charmed them so now you don’t need me to put a Silencing Charm around you all the time, just put your headphones on and it’ll do the trick.”

“Thanks,” he grinned, putting them on and trying them out, his smile widening when they worked perfectly.

Dean blinked when he pulled out the leather jacket she’d bought him. There wasn’t much difference between the two he now owned, the only noticeable one being that one was obviously newer than the other.

She grinned when he turned his eyes to her, and she stood and walked over to him, taking the jacket from him and holding it up.

“This one is a little different to your old one,” she said, before showing him the magically hidden pockets on the inside of the jacket and he blinked in surprise. “No one will know they are there except for a Winchester. Should you ever be pulled over and body searched by the police, anything that is kept within the pockets won’t be picked up through manual or technological searches. And they’re bigger on the inside, just like my beaded bag. You’ve got four on the inside and the regular two on the outside, which I’ve left alone since I know you like to put your hands in your pockets quite a lot.”

Dean blinked before standing up and hugging her tightly.

~000~000~000~

“WAKE UP, BOYS!” Hermione shouted, and she childishly jumped up and down on her and Dean’s bed, despite being a twenty-seven year old.

“No!” They both groaned.

“Yes!” She sang. “We need to get ready so we can go to The Burrow, come on, the kids are dying to see you. Don’t you want to see Lily Petal, Dean?” Hermione said innocently.

Dean glared at her before rolling out of bed and heading to the bathroom.

“I knew that would work, I’ve now got more leverage over him,” she grinned and Sam snorted.

“And that would be?”

“Easy, Lily, Baby and sex.” He snorted again, before laying back down. “I don’t think so, Sammy,” she sang.

Since their beds weren’t that far apart, she jumped from her own and onto his, jostling him about as she sang ‘We Wish You A Merry Christmas’ loudly, whilst jumping up and down on his bed.

“You’ll wake the neighbours,” he yawned.

“Nope, I put a Silencing Charm on the room.”

“Good idea,” he said, before reaching over to grab his new headphones and he slipped them on, a smile appeared on his face and he settled back down in bed, despite Hermione’s jumping.

She scowled, before holding her hand out and the headphones flew off Sam’s head and into her hand.

“Hey! You cheated,” he protested.

She stuck her tongue out before she gave a loud shriek as Sam swept his leg out, catching hers and she went tumbling off the bed. She hit the ground with a loud ‘thud’ and she groaned.

“That’s going to bruise,” she whined, and all of this occurred, just as Dean stepped out of the bathroom.

He stared before he burst out laughing.

~000~000~000~

“What do you think?” Hermione asked, spinning in a circle to show Dean her pretty red dress.

It was modest with a round neckline and long sleeves that fell to her wrists. The dress fit to her frame before flaring out at the waist and falling in pleats just above her knees. She wore black ankle boots and her cropped leather jacket to finish off the look, and her hair was left hanging down her back in soft ringlets, with it being pulled back from her face and held in place with a few glittery pins.

“Beautiful,” he said honestly.

“But?” Hermione questioned, and Dean looked nervous.

“Would you mind wearing white instead?”

She frowned. “Why?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, looking away from her.

What was going on with her husband? He’d been acting strange since they’d opened their gifts and she wasn’t the only one to notice it. Despite her confusion, she waved her wand over her dress and changed it from red to white and she saw him let out a sigh of relief.

Hermione eyed him strangely. He wore his customary boots and jeans, though she did notice that he wore a nicer shirt than usual. It was one of the ones they’d bought in London and it was a white button-down that hadn’t been cheap, and to complete the look he wore his new leather jacket.

“I’m just going to make sure Baby’s all locked up,” Dean said, before leaving the room.

Hermione frowned and Sam exited the bathroom. She turned her eyes to him, seeing him wearing trainers and jeans, though he also wore one of the new button-down shirts she’d bought him, this one a light blue.

He eyed her dress. “I’m sure that was red,” he commented with a frown.

“It was; Dean asked that I change it to white.”

“That’s strange, he told me to wear a nice shirt,” he replied.

“Has he been acting strange?”

“Very strange,” he nodded. “He’s up to something.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

~000~000~000~

“What in the name of God are you doing here at six in the morning?” Bobby grumbled, coming down from the stairs and he looked as though he’d just thrown on the first clothing articles he could find.

He wore blue jeans, trainers, and his customary plaid shirt and ball cap. Hermione saw Dean eyeing Bobby’s shirt and she sighed, before pulling her wand to transfigure it into a blue button-down shirt similar to Sam’s. Dean’s relief was obvious. Bobby blinked in surprise at her actions.

“It’s Christmas,” Hermione grinned.

“And?” He said.

“And we’re spending Christmas with our family. It’s about time you meet the others, we’re all family after all and the children are dying to meet you. We’re going to The Burrow for Christmas dinner. That’s why we’re here so early, time difference, you see?”

“Oh, hell no, I am not going anywhere...”

“Mimsy!”

~000~000~000~

“I’m going to kill you, Missy,” Bobby grumbled, as she dragged him into the floo in her apartment, which he hadn’t seen before so his eyes searched his surroundings distractedly.

“I’ll give you a tour later, now we’re going to be late.”

~000~000~000~

“Aunt ‘Mione! Uncle Dean! Uncle Sam!” They heard voices chorus before the three Winchesters were swarmed by children all of different sizes and ages, though the majority of them had red hair.

They were pulled away from the fireplace and over to the couches, and Hermione allowed Bobby a moment to take in his first experience of seeing a truly magical house.

Bobby looked down when he felt a tug on his shirt, his eyes meeting a pair of quizzical green.

“Are you Bobby?”

“Yeah,” his gruff voice replied.

The child grinned. “Awesome, I’m James, Uncle Dean and Uncle Sam have told us all about you. Will you tell us about hunting?”

Bobby blinked, before looking to the sniggering Winchesters.

“Come on Bobby, tell them about hunting, they love hearing stories,” Sam encouraged.

“Just watch what you say around them, we accidentally taught Fred his first curse word,” Dean said.

“And Angie blamed me; I should’ve known it was you!”

They looked behind them to see George entering the living room from the kitchen and looking amused.

“Winchesters,” he grinned. “How you doing?”

“Still alive,” Sam replied. “You?”

“Still got one ear,” he said and they snorted.

“Oh, George, why didn’t you tell me they’d arrived,” Mrs. Weasley bustled out of the kitchen before lightly smacking her son with a tea towel.

“I’ve just walked out of the kitchen, Mum, I don’t have super hearing,” he rolled his eyes.

“Hush, whilst I greet our new arrivals,” she said, before turning her warm smile on the Winchesters and they all stood, knowing hugs were coming their way.

“Hermione, Dean, Samuel, it’s lovely to have you back,” she approached them. “Now let’s see, oh dear, you’re all skin and bones, you really must eat better, hunting is a dangerous profession and you don’t want to be fainting from hunger,” she scolded the three of them, whilst by this point, the rest of the Weasley children and their spouses had emerged from the kitchen and they were trying their best to hide their laughter.

“We eat just fine, Molly,” Hermione replied.

“Well, _you_ do anyway,” Sam said.

Hermione glared at him and reached around Dean to smack at Sam’s head. The others sniggered.

“Children, be nice to each other,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Are they always like this, Dear?” She said to Dean.

“Always,” he nodded.

“Oh, you poor dear having to put it with their constant bickering,” she said, pulling him into a hug. Dean smirked over her shoulder and Sam and Hermione looked outraged, by this point the others were crying with silent laughter.

Bobby stood in shock, still with James beside him, whilst he watched his pseudo-sons interact with Hermione’s pseudo-mother as if they’d known each other for years. He noted they were comfortable in the presence of the children and the adults, and they’d allowed the mother to hug them freely without complaint and unease. It was a new sight for him, seeing the brothers completely at ease without a care in the world.

“Well, now that Dean’s finished kissing butt, I think introductions are in order,” Hermione said. “Bobby, this is Molly and Arthur Weasley...”

~000~000~000~

Bobby sat on the couch, surrounded by Sam and Dean whilst Hermione sat on the floor with the children. He watched as Harry brought a little girl over to Dean, and Dean’s face lit up in pure happiness.

“Unc’ Dea’,” the little girl shrieked in joy.

“Hiya, Lily Petal,” Dean grinned, immediately taking the child from her father and she hugged him tightly and Dean chuckled.

“You’re her favourite,” Harry said amused. “I tried to call her Lily Petal and she said and I quote, but in better English, “No, Daddy, that’s Uncle Dean’s name.””

Dean grinned at Lily and she nodded in agreement to Harry’s words, making him snort.

“Well I am the coolest,” Dean replied and Harry looked amused.

“No, Uncle Sam is,” Albus said with a frown from his place on the floor.

“Don’t be silly, Uncle Dean’s far cooler than Uncle Sam,” James said.

“No, Uncle Sam gives good piggyback rides.”

“And Uncle Dear has a cool car.”

“Children,” Harry scolded, and they both settled down. “Thanks for that, Mate, you almost started Wizarding War Three with that comment,” he said amused. “Either that or Hermione would’ve hexed you for having the boys fighting.”

Dean looked down to Lily. “You won’t let your Aunt hurt me, will you Lily Petal?”

“No,” she shook her head. “My Dea’,” Lily said.

Those that heard laughed loudly. Dean smiled smugly and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Brilliant, I’ve been replaced,” he said jokingly. 

~000~000~000~

After presents had been opened –which Bobby, Dean and Sam all received a Weasley jumper; much to their shock- they were all ushered outside onto the snow-covered ground and towards the marquee, where they would be having their Christmas dinner since there were easily twenty-eight mouths to feed.

“She should’ve let me bring a jacket,” Bobby mumbled.

“You don’t need one, the magic on the tent keeps the cold out and the warmth in,” Sam replied.

When they entered the marquee, even they were surprised by the feast in front of them, it could easily feed them all and three times over, too. There was a large Christmas tree decorated similarly to the one in their motel room, making them think the house-elves had likely done it, and like the motel, fairies floated about in the air, and along with the feast on the table were the lit candles and the Christmas crackers.

“Ready everyone, take a seat and we shall tuck in,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“Molly made all of this by herself, she doesn’t like the elves to help in the kitchen, she doesn’t mind them helping with the decorations, but they’re not to get anywhere her kitchen,” she told the three Hunters, they blinked in surprise.

~000~000~000~

Dinner had went brilliantly with everyone laughing and chatting –though Ron spent most of his time glaring at The Winchesters, he was smart enough to remain quiet- and soon the marquee doors were open, the children and their fathers were bundled up warm and a snowball fight ensured, whilst some built snowmen and made snow angels.

Hermione had been watching Dean throughout dinner, and although he’d been more relaxed than before they’d arrived, he still had a nervous air about him, and she’d seen him sneaking off to speak to Harry and her pseudo-parents, and when they’d returned, Dean had looked relieved and they were smiling at her knowingly. It was bloody infuriating. She wanted to know what was going on, and just when she was going to ask him, she was distracted by the arrival of The Malfoys.

She stood and met them halfway, pulling Luna and Draco into a hug, and then stealing Scorpius from his father and walking away, all before he could blink.

“Hi, Handsome,” Hermione cooed, as she sat down and perched Scorpius on her knee. “You’re getting so big,” she muttered, looking at his chubby cheeks, and he was now around eight months old.

“You’re like a bloody sniper,” Draco said, taking up a seat at the table.

She stuck her tongue out at him, before introducing Luna to Bobby. She would’ve warned him about her friend’s strangeness, but the look on his face as Luna told him he was surrounded by wrackspurts was worth it, the brothers, in particular, were beside themselves with laughter.

She spent some time cooing over Scorpius, and whilst doing so, she caught sight of Dean sneaking off with Draco for a few minutes before they shook hands and returned to the table. Hermione frowned, and she was going to question Dean when she was distracted once more.

“Uncle Bobby, will you tell us about hunting now?” James ran into the marquee, covered in snow and his face flushed from the cold.

“Uncle Bobby?” He said surprised.

James frowned. “You’re Uncle Bobby, like Uncle Dean and Uncle Sam.” He turned to look at Hermione and she nodded. “You’re Uncle Bobby,” James nodded. “Tell us about hunting?”

“Err...Well...I...”

“Please...” He begged.

Bobby looked up, seeing the amused looks of the adults and he sighed. “Fine,” he said gruffly.

“Yay!” James said. “Uncle Bobby’s going to tell hunting stories!” He yelled loudly.

The rest of the children cheered loudly before quickly making their way back into the marquee and sitting on the floor near Bobby’s chair, surrounding him and looking at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat. “Right, well...There was this case where....”

“Can I talk to you?” Hermione looked up, seeing Dean looking at her nervously.

She frowned but nodded, handing Scorpius over to Sam since he was sitting the closest.

Dean took Hermione’s hand in his and he pulled her away from the marquee, walking through the snow until they reached the large tree that housed the children’s treehouse and then he stopped.

“What is it?” She asked.

He cleared his throat. “I love pie,” he said.

She frowned. “I love pie, too,” she replied in confusion.

Some of the tension left his frame, but he still appeared anxious.

“I’m not good at this; I’m not good with words so I’ll let my actions speak for me.”

He released her hand to dig into one of his pockets, pulling out the gift he’d asked her to wait to open, and he handed it to her.

“Open it.”

Her eyes held his searching for his intentions before she looked down to the gift and removed the wrapping paper. She removed the box lid and her eyes zeroed in on the contents as a gasp of surprise left her.


	81. Chapter 81

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 12

Rings.

Three of them.

That’s what met her eyes.

One was obviously a man’s, given the width of the simple silver band. The other two were women’s. One had a thin silver band with a square diamond sat in the centre with a halo of smaller diamonds around it, and the second silver band was a little thicker with small diamonds encrusted into the band around the entire length of the ring. They were simple but beautiful.

Her eyes filled up with tears and when she pulled her gaze away from the rings, she became aware of Dean, who was now on the ground on one knee and her breath caught with tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“I know neither of us had a choice in our marriage, and I know we’re both happy despite the circumstances that brought us together. I know we’re married in the eyes of the magical law and Heaven, but we’re not in the Muggle World. Now that you’ve had my criminal record cleared, I want your name to be tied with mine in all worlds. I want for you to have the ceremony you deserve with the people we care about supporting us. So, will you be my willing and knowing wife?”

By this point, tears wear falling down her face and she nodded silently. All of the tension left Dean and he visibly sighed in relief, before standing up and pulling her into a kiss and then hugging her to him tightly.

There was a flash of light and Hermione pulled back from Dean to look over her shoulder, seeing everyone gathered behind them. Mrs. Weasley had a magical camera in her hand and was crying, as were the rest of the women, whilst the men smiled and the children old enough to understand cheered. Harry was grinning at her widely, Draco was smirking and Bobby and Sam both looked surprised before a small smile broke out on Bobby’s face and Sam grinned widely.

Hermione gave a sob-laugh, before Dean took the rings from her, slipping the engagement ring onto her right ring finger, not wanting to cover her fated marriage band. They were pulled away from each other to be congratulated and hugged by everyone.

“I’m proud of you,” Bobby said gruffly, pulling back from Dean. Dean let out a sigh of relief.

“So this is why you’ve been acting so weird,” Sam laughed. “You had us both worried. And it explains why you made me change shirts.”

“Alright, everyone, we have a wedding to prepare for!” Mrs. Weasley called.

“What!” Hermione said in surprise.

Dean grinned. “We’re having the ceremony today, why do you think I asked you to change the colour of your dress?”

She blinked, before turning to Harry, Draco and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. “You knew, didn’t you?”

They all nodded. “He asked for our permission to formally marry you the last time you visited,” Mr. Weasley said.

“Yes, and we agreed to help with the setup. What better time to get married than today, when everyone is already present,” Mrs. Weasley said, still with tears in her eyes. “Now, we need to get a move on. We’re going simple, but the others will take care of it, we have to get you wedding-worthy, let’s go.” Mrs. Weasley grabbed her by the hand and dragged her towards the house, the women all following after a dazed Hermione.

“Dean’s been planning this for a while,” Harry said to the surprised looking Bobby and Sam, before turning to the face the men and the children. He clapped his hands, getting their attention. “Alright, you all know your jobs; we have an hour, let’s get moving.”

~000~000~000~

Hermione stood, staring at herself in the mirror. She barely recognised herself.

She still wore the same dress as before, only it had been altered to appear more bridal, and with Fleur’s Alteration Charms you would never even know.

Where her dress had once fallen to her mid-thigh with pleats, it now flowed down to her feet and it had been altered to have a long train to follow behind her when she walked. The neckline had been altered to have a sweetheart neckline and the bodice was fixed with an Illusion Charm to make it appear as though it sparkled. Her long sleeves had been removed and she now had capped sleeves that sat off her shoulders, and her boots had been changed to silver heels.

Ginny had gone to work on her makeup, applying a small amount of mascara, adding a nude glittery eye shadow and she applied a red lipstick to her mouth, perfectly outlining her bow-shaped mouth and making her ivory skin stand out. And Hermione was glad Ginny had her back, since she glamoured the phoenix tattoo on her shoulder before Mrs. Weasley could see. They all hid them for a reason.

Once her makeup had been completed by a crying Ginny, Angelina stepped forward and took charge of Hermione’s hair, pulling it up into a bun made of her mass of curls, but leaving a few curls to frame her face. She interwove a few small roses through her hair and a halo of red and white roses was placed on top of her head.

Luna then stepped forward and removed the simple gold studded earring she hadn’t removed in as long as she could remember, and she swapped them for a pair of dangle, round diamond earrings, whilst Audrey fastened the matching necklace around her neck, the diamond falling and resting in the cleavage of her breasts. Claire lifted her left wrist and fastened the matching tennis bracelet in place, before handing her a bouquet of white and red roses and they all stepped back from her.

“Beautiful,” Mrs. Weasley said, wiping away her tears. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for almost a decade, the last of my daughters getting married.”

Hermione had to force back her own tears. “Molly, if you don’t stop, I’m going to start crying, too.” They laughed.

“Sorry, Dear,” she sniffled.

They all pulled themselves together long enough for them to head downstairs and out of the Burrow, before photos were taken of Hermione and everyone together.

“You look beautiful.”

Hermione turned to see Harry and Draco approaching her.

“Thank you, Harry,” she smiled.

“He’s right, you clean up nicely, Granger,” Draco said.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s Winchester, we may be having the ceremony today, but we’ve been married nine months.”

“You’ll always be Granger; Winchester doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

She snorted.

“You ready?” Harry asked.

She took a deep breath and nodded. The women disappeared and Draco and Harry both put her arms through theirs, since they would be giving her away.

“We’re happy for you, Hermione,” Harry told her as they approached the ceremonial site.

Hermione didn’t say anything for fear of crying and ruining her makeup.

“And my great-great-Grandmother’s diamonds suit you,” Draco said, surprising her. “She must be rolling in her grave right now,” he smirked. “It took months for Bill to remove the black magic on them.”

“Months?” She spluttered.

“Months,” Harry nodded with a smile. “Dean’s been planning this for a while.”

She blinked. “Who knew?”

“Not many of us, only Draco, myself, Molly and Arthur, and Bill was clued in so he could sort out the diamonds for you. We told the rest of them last night so we could delegate responsibilities in getting the ceremonial site ready in time.”

She blinked again before her breath was stolen when they reached the frozen lake. It had grown dark and orbs of white and blue lights floated about, along with the fairies. A carpet had been laid for the aisle to prevent Hermione from slipping, despite the charms already in place on her heels. White chairs sat on either side of the aisle with red and white roses tied to them, and the altar was an archway made of red and white roses. She expected to be cold, but she wasn’t, meaning the area had been charmed to protect them from the cold.

It was a winter wonderland wedding. It was beautiful.

She spied the guests and aside from those she expected to be present, there were a few surprise visitors with McGonagall, Kingsley and Hagrid, as well as Neville and Hannah, Dean and Seamus.

She caught sight of Sam standing at the altar and she was surprised to see that he was dressed in the suit she’d bought him during their first visit to London. The black tailored fabric fit to his frame perfectly, he wore a white shirt beneath it with a black tie, and a red rose pinned to his jacket. Her eyes then landed on Dean, and she felt tears welling up.

He wore the suit he’d worn for their photoshoot that went with _The Daily Prophet_ interview, with a white rose pinned to his jacket and as usual, he was so bloody handsome he made her dizzy. His eyes caught sight of her and she felt her stomach flutter at seeing his mouth fall open. It wasn’t often he was speechless. His face split into a wide smile that must’ve been painful and she felt her knees go weak.

She felt Harry grip her hand and she blinked, coming back to herself, realising that the wedding march had started. She took a deep breath and took her first step towards her husband, her eyes were focused on him and he were focused on her.

Her breath caught when she was handed over to Dean and Ginny took her bouquet from her. The music stopped and silence fell upon them.

“Words can’t describe how beautiful you are,” he leaned over and muttered into her ear and when he pulled back, he smiled at the blush that covered her cheeks.

“There’s no point in complimenting you, you already know how bloody handsome you are,” she grumbled and he chuckled. “Not to sound like a pain, but who’s marrying us?”

Dean smiled before there was a sudden flash of light and everyone shielded their eyes, and once the light faded, Castiel stood at the altar.

“Castiel?” Hermione said in surprise, though with a smile since she was happy to see them.

“Hello, Hermione, you look lovely,” he complimented and she grinned at him.

“Thank you, it’s good to see you, it’s been a while.”

“Who better to marry us than your Guardian Angel and a Son of God himself?” Dean grinned.

“You knew?” Hermione turned to Castiel.

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, Dean called me some time ago and asked for my assistance; all I had to do was be here at the right time. How did I do?” He asked Dean.

“Perfect,” Dean spoke. “Now, let’s get a move on.”

Castile nodded, before turning to address the crowd staring at him in awe since his Angel wings were on display, which Hermione thought a tad overdramatic, but she didn’t complain.

“Witches and Wizards, children of my Father, we are all gathered here today to witness the love and bond shared by Hermione and Dean. You have been asked to be in attendance to support the coming together of Witch and Hunter.”

Those that weren’t in the know about Dean’s profession gasped in surprise, though it was only five people so it didn’t disrupt the ceremony.

“My Father has created many things in his existence, but humans are his most prized creation. He wished for you to grow and learn, to live and love, and the ability to love is his second proudest moment for humankind. He has witnessed the love Hermione and Dean have for each other, he has witnessed the love they have for others and he has witnessed the great sacrifices they have made in their lives to protect the world from evil. I am honoured in saying that my Father has blessed this union in life and death.”

Tears were gathered in Hermione’s eyes and it was hard for her to hold them back, though, by the sounds from the crowd, others weren’t doing too well either. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing her heart out, bless her.

“And before I complete the ceremony, I believe it is time for our couple to say their vows.”

The crowd went silent, waiting for Dean to speak first.

He took a deep breath and said, “I love pie.”

A sob-laugh broke free from Hermione. Dean wasn’t a man of many words when it came to his feelings, but those three words, she understood his true meaning, and even if she didn’t, his eyes spoke for him.

“I love pie, too,” she replied through a sniffle.

She heard the confused murmurs of the crowd and the snort from Sam, but she didn’t care. She turned to Castiel and nodded her head, letting him know they were done.

“Do you, Dean Winchester, take Hermione Winchester, to be your lawfully wedded wife? In sickness and in health? For richer or for poorer? For better or for worse? For being a Witch?”

“I do,” he said the two words he never thought he’d say in his life, and with no hesitation. He took her ring from Sam and slipped it onto her finger, settling it in front of the engagement ring he’d given her.

“Do you, Hermione Winchester, take Dean Winchester, to be your lawfully wedded husband? In sickness and in health? For richer or for poorer? For better or for worse? For being a Hunter?”

“I do,” she said instantly, taking the ring from Ginny and slipping it onto Dean’s right ring finger, so his fate marriage band wouldn’t be covered.

“By the power invested in me by my Father, I now pronounce you Husband and Wife, Hunter and Witch. You may now kiss the bride.”

Dean pulled her closer to him, before taking her face in his hands and wiping away her happy tears. He smiled at her softly and his mouth touched hers in a soft kiss.

She was vaguely aware of the crowd cheering and camera flashes going off, but Dean occupied her attention. He pulled back from her when they felt something cold hit their cheeks. They looked up at the sky, seeing that it was snowing and they both laughed.

“May I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Winchester,” Castiel called and Dean took her hand in his as they walked down the aisle and back to the marquee.

Hermione smiled; it hadn’t been changed much, only now there were red and white roses scattered about and the remaining food from the feast had been removed and exchanged for finger sandwiches and cakes. An area had been cleared for a dance floor and the musical instruments had been charmed to play magically.

Once everyone arrived, Dean wasted no time in pulling Hermione to the dance floor, and she blinked in surprise when the soft music turned to a tune she’d recognise anywhere.

“Seriously, Aerosmith?” She said amused, listening as ‘I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing,’ started playing.

“It’s a great song,” he defended and she laughed at him, as he pulled her against him and they shared their first dance.

They were interrupted though when a loud ‘bang’ sounded and they looked to the sky, to see ‘Congratulations, Hermione and Dean,’ written in large gold lettering, before another ‘bang’ sounded and an image of a witch flying on a broom appeared, followed by an image of a man with a gun in his hand. They could visibly see the gun being fired, before it went straight through the witch’s heart. The witch fell off the broom and was caught by the man before another ‘bang’ sounded and a love heart appeared around them.

The crowd cheered and the Hunters stared in awe, having never seen magical fireworks before. Hermione turned to George in surprise.

He shrugged. “What? The Hunter stole the Witch’s heart,” he said, and the crowd laughed at him. “By the way, “I love pie,” amazing vows, Mate. I know it must’ve taken you ages to write them. I wish I was as eloquent as you.”

Dean just shrugged and Hermione scowled at him.

“You don’t know the meaning behind those words and I do. That’s all that matters,” she said.

“Fair enough,” George held his hands out in surrender.

Dean snorted, before pulling Hermione off the dance floor and over to Castiel, who stood in the corner of the marquee with a muggle marriage certificate in his hand.

“This is dated for March 27th,” she said confused, after signing her name.

“Cas is going to work his Angel magic and have our marriage filed for the day the bond was sealed. Today may have been our ceremony, but we _were_ married on March 27th,” Dean shrugged.

Hermione blinked.

~000~000~000~

They floo’d into the Cambridge apartment and they had no idea what time it was, when they left the Burrow it had been the early hours of the morning they celebrated till.

Hermione, Dean and Sam were still in their wedding attire and Hermione made to make for her bedroom, but Dean stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Mimsy,” he called, and the little house-elf appeared.

“Master, Mistress,” she bowed, smiling up at them and seeing their attire. “Everythings is readys, Master.”

“Thank you, Mimsy,” he smiled, ignoring a confused Hermione, and turning to Bobby and Sam. “Right, Sammy, we’ll be gone a couple of days, you and Bobby are going to wait here until we get back. Give Bobby the tour and don’t go near Hermione’s potions lab or library. Why don’t you show him the Hunter’s library, I’m sure he’d love it? And the armoury?”

Before anyone could speak, Mimsy had taken a hold of Dean and Hermione and they disappeared.

~000~000~000~

They landed on their feet, Mimsy was gone in the blink of an eye and Hermione instantly noticed the change in temperature and that it must’ve been late evening judging by the sky.

She looked around, seeing that they were in a bedroom. It was decorated in light colours with wooden flooring and a large four-poster bed with the curtains tied back. There were two bedside tables and the two doors in the room led to the bathroom and the walk-in closet. She turned around, seeing the beach style doors open and the curtains blowing softly in the breeze.

“Where are we?” She asked.

“I remembered you telling me about the beach house you bought, and it had never been used. So, I figured, we might as well use it now for a weekend away.”

“We’re at the beach house in Costa Rica?”

“Don’t you recognise it?” He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I’ve only been here once and that was to view the property, I had contractors and designers in to remodel the whole house, I never saw the finished product since I had no reason to come here.”

“Well, I guess we can explore together.” She yawned. “You tired?”

“Exhausted,” she said through her yawn. She saw his disappointed pout and she chuckled. “But I suppose I have just energy for that.”

“Then let’s make a baby,” he grinned.

She laughed loudly when he scooped her up into his arms and he walked them over to the bed, placing her in the centre and climbing on after her.

“You know, I’ve never had sex on the beach,” she said thoughtfully.

“Neither have I, we’ll have to change that. Now, use your magic to get us naked so I can put a baby in you.”

“Such a charmer,” she teased, laughing when he attacked her neck with kisses.

~000~000~000~

“How long have you been up?” Dean questioned, leaning against the wall.

He walked into the kitchen the morning after their wedding ceremony, watching Hermione happily pottering about without fear of Mimsy appearing and scolding her for doing so.

She turned and smiled at him. “About an hour.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You looked like you needed your rest.”

He snorted, coming up behind her and wrapping himself around her, watching as she mixed some pancake batter in a bowl.

“I’d say, despite your assurances that you were too tired for another round of baby-making, you wore me out after the third go.”

She snorted. “Is old age catching up with you, Mr. Winchester?”

She laughed and almost dropped the bowl when he turned her around and lifted her to sit on the counter.

“Old age?” He questioned, taking the bowl from her and moving it off to the side and out of the way. 

“That’s what I said, is your hearing going as well as your stamina and recovery period? Do I have to buy you hearing aids for your birthday, too? It’s only around the corner, so I suppose I could give them to you early,” she mused.

“Cheeky witch,” he muttered, his face close to hers. “May I remind you that I’m only two years older than you?”

“Physically, mentally I’m older than you.”

“That’s true,” he chuckled. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Not hungover, you?”

“Me too, though I imagine George’s in a state.”

Hermione laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yes, I imagine so, especially since Angie gave away his entire stock of Hangover Potion to everyone else.”

“That seems a bit cruel.”

“Well he turned her hair blue last week; she’s only repaying him in kind by allowing him to suffer from a monstrous hangover. I imagine he’s going to be out of commission for at least two days.”

“With the amount he drank I’m surprised he’s not dead,” Dean snorted.

“Fair point,” she nodded.

Her eyes caught sight of the sun shining through the window and onto her rings and she felt a smile pull at her mouth. Dean looked over his shoulder to see what she was looking at, and then he turned back to her.

“You like them?” He asked her.

She nodded. “I love them. The simplicity is what makes them beautiful.”

“I didn’t think you’d want anything too flashy.”

“I’m not really a materialistic person,” she nodded. “I prefer simple over gaudy. They’re perfect.” He smiled. “Do I even want to know where you got the money from? I know for a fact you didn’t take any from the vault, despite you having access to everything.”

“That’s your money...”

“ _Our_ money,” she corrected. “And now that we’re married I’m going to need your opinions on future investments and purchases.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Anyway, I got the money from pool hustling, it took me months to save up.”

“The others told me you’d had the ceremony planned for months? How long exactly?”

He frowned. “I’m not sure, to be honest; it was around the time Sammy was taken by Crowley. After what you put yourself through for us, magically draining yourself, I wanted to give you everything you deserved, and that meant giving you a wedding with our family and friends supporting us. I just wasn’t sure when to do it. When we visited England I spoke with Harry, Arthur and Molly and they suggested we do it at Christmas since everyone would already be gathered.”

“So you knew we were going to The Burrow for Christmas?” He nodded. “You know, you’re not a bad actor, I genuinely thought you were surprised. Though I’m glad it’s all over now, you were so antsy it was winding me up and I was gearing up to hex you.”

He chuckled, before leaning forward to kiss her. They heard a ‘ding’ and Hermione pushed him away from her and hopped off the counter.

“Pie’s done,” she said, grabbing a tea towel and making her way over to the oven.

“Pie?” Dean perked up.

“Yes,” she replied, pulling one out and placing it on the cooling rack, and then pulling another out and doing the same. She turned to him with a mischievous look in her eyes. “Which would you like? Apple or cherry?”

He took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists.

“Witch, don’t tease,” he warned her.

“Have I ever not pleased you?” She asked innocently. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said, picking up a knife and cutting a slice out of the apple pie, placing it onto a plate, and then doing the same to the cherry pie.

She picked up both plates and moved over to the breakfast bar, sitting on a stool and picking up a fork, she took a small forkful from the cherry pie slice and popped it in her mouth, fully aware of Dean’s heated gaze on her.

She pulled the fork from her mouth and lifted her eyes, seeing that his eyes had darkened and his breathing had picked up. She licked her lips, catching a crumb from the corner of her mouth.

Suddenly she gave a shriek and her stool scraped across the floor as she darted out of it and Dean chased her through the kitchen, through the living room and out of the doors, straight onto the beach.

She headed for the water, only she didn’t make it as Dean tackled her to the ground. He landed on top of her and she laughed loudly as he settled himself between her legs and he held her wrists to the ground, peering down at her.

“It’s not nice to tease,” he muttered.

“Tease? Me? Never. I was merely enjoying myself a slice of cherry pie.”

He narrowed his eyes on her and she rolled them until she straddled him, his hands gripping at her waist and her hands pressed on either side of his head, looking down at him.

“You still haven’t answered my question. Apple or cherry? I know which I’d prefer,” she muttered against his ear and his grip on her tightened. “So, Winchester, what is it going to be?”

“Cherry.”

She smirked.

~000~000~000

“God! I love your apple pie!” Dean sighed, shovelling another forkful into his mouth.

“Not as much as you love my cherry,” she smirked behind her tea mug.

Dean choked.

~000~000~000~

“What are you doing in here?” Dean asked, walking into the bathroom and leaning against the wall, as Hermione sat on the closed toilet seat with her wand in her hand and the tip pressed against her stomach.

“My period’s due tomorrow.”

She looked up at him, and with her eyes locked on his, she muttered the incantation under her breath. A soft glow emitted from the tip of her wand and her face fell.

“Not pregnant,” she said quietly.

Once again, Dean felt disappointment fill him before he pushed it down. He pushed himself off the wall and moved so he crouched down in front of her.

“Not everyone has the fortune of getting knocked up on their first try, Sweetheart,” he said softly.

“But it’s not our first time, Dean. For the last nine months, we’ve been having unprotected sex more times a week than I can bloody count. It’s a wonder I can still walk properly.”

She looked down at the ground, and he brought his hand to her chin, tilting her head so she was forced to look at him.

“It’ll happen when it’s meant to. When you get pregnant you’re going to be out of commission for a while, we’ll be a Hunter down. Maybe it hasn’t happened yet because the world still needs you to continue doing what you’re best at.”

“Or we’re not meant to have children,” she said sadly.

“We are.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, I promise you we are meant to have children.”

“How do you know?”

“Remember what Cas said, we can have as many as we want. He wouldn’t tell you that if you couldn’t have kids.”

“There’s something else, there’s another reason you’re so sure,” she said knowingly. “What is it?”

“I can’t tell you, I’ve tried several times.”

She frowned before the imaginary light bulb went off above her head. “Oh My...Did the unicorn tell you we were going to have children?”

“Yes,”

“In the future?”

“Yes,”

“We’re destined to have children?”

“Yes, and even though I’m disappointed you’re not pregnant now, you will be in the future. We just have to continue trying until it happens.”

~000~000~000~

“I want to see your library.”

Hermione snorted as she appeared in the living room with Mimsy and Dean.

“Yes, thank you, Bobby, we had a lovely time. It’s good to see you, too. How are you?”

The brothers snorted and he narrowed his eyes on her.

“Follow me,” she rolled her eyes, leading the way.

“So, you have a good time?” Sam asked, handing Dean a beer and they both took a seat.

He nodded. “We stayed at her beach house in Costa Rica.”

“She has a beach house?” Sam said in surprise.

“Yes, she does.”

“What is it? You seem distracted,” Sam spoke, seeing the way Dean’s eyes were locked on the hallway Hermione had disappeared down.

He sighed. “It’s nothing. She just... She did another test yesterday.”

“And?”

“Not pregnant.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam said quietly.

Dean nodded. “I know we’ll have kids, we just have to keep trying. And in the meantime, I need to keep her distracted, so, any cases?”


	82. Chapter 82

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 9

**One month later...**

“No, I’m not doing it.”

“Come on, Sweetheart.”

“No, someone else can do it.”

“You’re the only one that can pass as an eighteen-year-old girl.”

“No, another Hunter can take the case.”

“We’re the closest.”

“I don’t care, I’m not doing it.”

“What aren’t you doing?” Sam asked, walking into their room after collecting breakfast since it was his turn that morning.

“We’ve got a case in Price, Utah,” Dean answered.

“And?” Sam questioned with a raised eyebrow, looking at Hermione as she sat on the bed with a scowl on her face and her arms crossed over her chest.

Hermione glared at Dean, before turning to Sam. “And _your_ brother wants to take it.”

“Why's that a bad thing? And why is he suddenly _my_ brother, and not _your_ husband?”

“He’s not my husband today,” she sniffed. “And it’s a bad thing because it requires one of us to go undercover in a high school.”

“We’ve done that before, and from what I remember, the kids loved you,” he shrugged.

Hermione glared at Dean once more.

“It’s not as a teacher, but a student,” Dean said.

“And not just any student, but a bloody cheerleader, too,” Hermione fumed.

Sam looked between Dean and Hermione and he burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny,” she hissed, and he quickly pulled himself together, seeing that her wand hand was twitching.

“Why a cheerleader?” He asked.

“Three have died in the last nine months,” Dean answered.

“What we thinking, ghost? Demon?”

“Possible ghost,” Dean nodded. “The only way into the school is through Hermione going undercover as a cheerleader; she’ll be able to get insider knowledge.”

“Good idea,” Sam nodded.

“Excuse me! It’s not a good idea! It’s a very, very bad idea and I’m not doing it!”

“Why not?” Dean pouted.

Sam got the feeling Dean wanted Hermione in that uniform for more than one reason and he grimaced at the thought, though it didn’t surprise him.

“First of all, there is no way they’re going to believe I’m eighteen, and second of all, there is not a chance in hell I can pass myself off as an experienced cheerleader. I can’t dance and I sure as hell can’t do gymnastics.”

“She’s got a point, they’ll want her to audition first, that’s even if there’s any spaces available,” Sam said.

“There is, I checked the school website. And they’ll let her on, they’re desperate, with the cheerleaders dying their numbers have dropped and so have the number of girls interested in trying out for the team.”

“I am absolutely not doing it!”

~000~000~000~

“I hate you,” Hermione muttered, bending down and looking through the window of the Impala, as she was currently stood in the car park of the high school.

Dean grinned at her. “I can’t wait to see you in that uniform,” he winked.

She scowled, before turning and stomping away.

“Hermione!” He called.

She sighed and turned around to face the Impala. She was well aware that the students that were stood nearby or passing by were watching her; she could already hear the gossip spreading.

“What!” She growled.

He appeared amused and he beckoned her over to him. She ground her teeth and made her way back over to him, and he climbed out of the Impala and leaned against the car. She heard the whispers, and despite her annoyance with Dean, jealousy flared up within her.

“OMG! Who is that?”

“He’s so hot!”

“Should I slip him my number?”

“He’s gorgeous!”

Hermione clenched her hands into fists. “What?” She growled, coming to a stop in front of him.

He chuckled and grabbed her by the hips, pulling her into him and wrapping his arms around her waist. The whispers grew louder and the number of eyes watching her grew larger.

“Don’t be mad, Sweetheart, it’s the job.”

“Then why can’t you have done it?”

“I don’t think the skirt would suit me,” he shrugged.

She glared and he chuckled. He reached up and pushed her hair out of her face.

“I’m going to miss you,” he muttered.

She sighed, her anger suddenly leaving her.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” she spoke, leaning into his touch.

“We haven’t been away from each other for this long in months.”

“I know, hopefully, I’ll have everything we need by tomorrow and we can leave.”

“Be careful,” he told her. “We need you healthy if we’re to have a baby.”

“I’ll be careful,” she nodded.

“Somehow I doubt that,” he snorted.

He took his hand from resting against the side of her neck and put it into his pocket, pulling out a phone and holding it out to her.

“A burner like mine and Sammy’s,” he told her. “I know you can’t use it for long periods of time, but keep it with you in case we need to get in contact with you, or you discover something important that you need to tell us and it can’t wait until later. There’s only three numbers programmed into the contacts, mine, Sammy’s and Bobby’s,” he explained.

“Alright,” she nodded, taking the silver flip phone and slipping it into her back pocket.

“You better get in there and secure your cover, you have everything?”

She nodded. “The Ministry gave me the documents that I need, and they even gave me a few spells that will temporarily allow me to get past trying out for the cheerleading team.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask. “I love pie.”

“I love pie, too,” she replied.

He smiled and she heard the sighs from the girls around her. Dean chuckled at the clear look of jealousy and annoyance on her face, before lowering his head and capturing her mouth in a kiss, sweeping his tongue through her parted lips and into her mouth to tangle with hers.

Everything around her disappeared; it was only her and Dean. She brought her hands up to him, one hand tangling in his hair and the other gripping at his leather jacket. She pulled back from him breathless and rested her forehead against his chest.

“You better go; I’ll be here waiting to pick you up.”

She nodded, before pulling away from him and walking towards the school, diligently ignoring the jealous and curious looks of the other students. She stopped once more and turned around, seeing that Dean was still watching her.

“I’m still mad at you,” she said loud enough for him to hear.

“I know, and you can take that anger out on me tonight,” he winked.

She sighed. “You’re an idiot.”

“I am,” he agreed. “But I’m your idiot.”

She heard several sighs at that comment.

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“Sweetheart, as if I have eyes for anyone else but you.”

She not only heard sighs but several ‘awws’ too. Dean threw another wink her way and she rolled her eyes and walked away.

~000~000~000~

The first day had been hell. She’d tried to blend in but that hadn’t turned out well. People were interested in her not only because she was the ‘new girl’ but also because of her accent, and of the display she and Dean had put on that morning, meaning word had spread through the halls.

She’d already had a few people approach her; she was polite but declined their invitations to lunch and tours of the school. She wasn’t blind to the looks the boys in her class sent her either, nor was she blind to the whispers and stares when she was walking the halls.

She was only glad the day was almost over. Coincidentally, the cheerleading team was holding tryouts that day and after heading to the changing rooms and putting on her best work out clothes, she was now stood in the gym with only five other girls trying out. She only hoped she could get through it.

She stood patiently waiting against the wall, listening and watching to the other girls before they were all turned away; considering they were desperate for members they sure were picky. With all the other girls gone, this left Hermione as the last applicant. If they hadn’t gotten on the team, she didn’t know how she would pull it off.

“Hermione Banks,” the coach of the team called.

She took a deep breath and pushed off from the wall, making her way into the centre of the gym. She knew she was being scrutinized by every pair of eyes stood before her, including the coach.

Hermione was usually good at reading people, but she wasn’t sure about the coach yet. She was small, around five-foot-two and possibly in her late thirties, early forties. Her blonde hair that was cut in a bob was greying and her green eyes had wrinkles. 

“You’re Hermione Banks?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” she replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She was the only one there, who else would she be?

The coach looked down at her clipboard, likely looking through the application she’d been forced to fill out.

“Transfer student from Boston, straight A’s, several extra-curricular activities and a gymnast,” she read out. “Though no experience as a cheerleader. Why now?”

“To be honest, I need it for my college application. I’d taken gymnastics at my previous schools for the last thirteen years, and this school doesn’t have a gymnastics team. This is the closest option available.” They all blinked, having not expected her accent.

“You’re British,” the coach said in surprise.

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes yet again.

“Yes, I moved to the US when I was thirteen, I’ve been here the last five years.”

“Why try out for the team?”

“From my understanding, you have vacancies that need to be filled.”

“If you have no experience I see no point in you being on the team.”

“It’s true I don’t have the experience, but you need the members, I need something to do and before you pass judgement, why don’t you let me show you what I can do.”

The coach narrowed her eyes, before gesturing with her head to get a move on.

Hermione walked back to the other end of the gym and bent down to make it look as though she were checking her shoelaces, when in reality, she was casting the spells The Ministry had given her on her shoes.

She stood, took a deep breath and then the music started.

~000~000~000~

Hermione stood in the changing rooms, staring at herself in the mirror. Her t-shirt and leggings were gone and replaced by the red pleated skirt with white and black lining, and the red sleeveless top, also with black and white lining, and the school’s mascot and initials in the centre of her chest. The skirt came up to her belly button and the top stopped just below her ribs, showing a small amount of skin when she lifted her arms.

She looked ridiculous!

She glamoured her tattoo and her scars before stepping out of the toilets. The chatter of the other girls stopped as they stared at her.

“You look amazing, like you were born to be a cheerleader,” one of the girls she learned was called Chloe, spoke. She stood and rushed over to her, spinning Hermione in a circle to better see the rest of her.

“I’m not too sure about this,” Hermione replied. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too short?” She said, absentmindedly tugging on the bottom of her skirt to pull it down a little more.

A second girl, Meghan, stood up and slapped Hermione’s hands away, pulling her skirt back up and into place.

“Of course it’s not, just wait to till the guys on the football team see you,” she grinned. Hermione looked at the blondes disbelievingly.

“From what I hear she’s already taken,” a brunette piped up, Brooke, Hermione thought her name was.

“I’ve heard the same, just who is this supposedly gorgeous guy?” Chloe asked.

“My boyfriend, Dean,” she replied.

“How long have you been together?” A redhead asked her, Hermione thought her name was Hannah.

“Four years,” she lied.

“And he followed you from Boston?” Meghan asked curiously.

Hermione bit her lip, how was she going to get around this one.

“My parents died in a car crash last year,” she lied. “Dean’s a couple years older than me, since I had no other family and I was almost eighteen by this point, we appealed to the court to allow Dean to take guardianship until I turned eighteen. When that didn’t work I refused to be put in a foster or care home and I applied for emancipation. It was Dean’s idea that we move away from Boston so we could have a fresh start.”

They all stared at her speechless, and even Hermione was surprised by how convincing she’d sounded.

She heard a buzzing sound and she turned her attention to her new locker, pulling her phone out and seeing the message from Dean.

_I’m outside, can’t wait to see you in that uniform._

She felt her mouth twitch. She was still mad at him for making her go undercover as a cheerleader, but she’d missed him and they hadn’t been away from each other for more than a few hours since they’d discovered they were married. She was so ashamed of how dependent she was on him, but there was nothing she could do about it, except get used to it.

 _I’m going to kill you!_ She replied.

The phone buzzed immediately.

_You’re right; I don’t think my heart can take it._

She snorted. _Old age is a pain in the arse._

_Old age? Cheeky witch, I should make you walk back._

_But then you wouldn’t get to see me in my new uniform, and you’d be making me a damsel in distress. The football team has practice; one of the players might see me walking home and offer me a ride._

_Over my dead body! Get your ass out here now!_

She giggled to herself, snapping the phone shut and taking her bag out of her locker and shutting it.

“I have to go, Dean’s here,” she said, and she saw them all perk up.

“We’ll walk you out,” another brunette, Jasmine, said.

“I’m sure I can find the way.”

“No, we don’t want you getting lost,” she replied.

Hermione sighed, knowing exactly why they wanted to walk her out. They wanted to get a look at her handsome husband and see if the rumours were true. They all surrounded her and much to Hermione’s annoyance, Chloe and Brooke looped their arms through hers so she couldn’t walk ahead of them.

“We have our practice tomorrow after class. We need to see how quickly you can pick up choreography; the football team has a game in three days,” Bethany, the Captain of the team spoke. “The season’s usually over by now, but we’ve had some really bad weather and a few of the games had to be cancelled since the other teams couldn’t get here, so the season’s carried over.”

“Oh, okay,” Hermione said, trying to sound as though she understood, but to be honest, she didn’t have a clue. She’d have to get Dean and Sam to explain the sport to her.

They came to the car park and her eyes immediately landed on Dean, seeing him stood leaning against the Impala with his hands in his pockets and looking off into the distance. God, she’d missed him and he looked as handsome as ever.

“Oh My...He’s so hot!”

Hermione felt jealously burn within her as the girls of the team started gushing over her husband.

“I have to go, I’ll see you later,” Hermione muttered, trying to keep her annoyance out of her tone. She pulled away from them.

“Don’t forget, practise tomorrow and wear your uniform to school,” Bethany said.

“Why?” Hermione frowned.

“School spirit, we’re promoting the football team and their up and coming game.”

Hermione sighed but nodded and started her approach towards her husband. As if feeling her presence, his head turned towards her and even from the distance between them, she saw the way he stood straight and his eyes locked on her, roaming her figure hungrily.

She felt a shiver go through her and her insides clenched. By the time she reached him, she could see his eyes had darkened, and when she was close enough, his hands reached out to grab her and he pulled her into him, wrapping himself around her and claiming her mouth hungrily.

She was a little surprised by his reaction to her new uniform but she was more than happy to kiss him, her hands tangling in his hair and tugging. She felt his hands shift to her arse and he tugged, picking her up and she wrapped her legs around him, feeling her back being pressed against the Impala. And it was obvious to her that he more than approved of her new outfit, judging by the growing bulge in his jeans that was pressed against her centre.

She only just remembered that the girls were still watching and when she heard chatter and footsteps, she knew the football team had finished with their practice and they were likely getting an eyeful, too.

She pulled back from his mouth and he looked less than impressed.

“We should get out of here,” she said breathlessly, since he’d literally stolen her breath with his kiss.

“Great idea,” he muttered, placing a kiss to her mouth, nipping at her lip and she moaned and tugged at his hair. “I hope traffic isn’t bad, or we’re not going to make it back to the motel.”

He placed a kiss to her neck, before putting her back on her feet and quickly climbing into the Impala. He turned on the ignition and drove off before Hermione had even closed the door.

It was the longest fifteen minutes of their lives and Hermione was surprised Dean had managed to remain so patient, instead of just pulling over at the side of the road like she expected him to.

Once they reached the motel, they were wrapped around each other and stumbling towards their motel room, not caring that the other occupants could easily see them as they mulled about. They burst through the door and Sam looked up from his laptop, about to speak before he grimaced at what he saw.

“Oh, for God’s Sake!” He groaned.

He stood up and grabbed the keys to the Impala off the floor, since Dean had dropped them as he backed Hermione up to the bed, and they tumbled onto it, not paying any attention to him.

“I’m going out, and stay the hell away from my bed!” He called, quickly disappearing out of the room when Dean’s hand disappeared underneath Hermione’s skirt.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Sam muttered, looking up at the sky.

When he heard a particularly loud moan, he paled and darted to the car, faster than he ever had in his life.


	83. Chapter 83

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 9

When Sam returned to the motel an hour later, both Hermione and Dean were dressed, though hadn’t he already known what they’d been up to before he left, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to figure it out by their rumpled clothing and messy hair, not to mention Hermione had some mouth shaped bruises forming on her neck.

He shivered and shook the thought away, and thankfully, Hermione was no longer wearing the cheerleading uniform, he would never be able to look at her again whilst she was wearing it.

She was right, he should’ve never agreed with Dean, he should’ve agreed with Hermione and convinced Dean to allow another Hunter to take the case. If he had, he wouldn’t be scarred for life.

He put all thoughts about Hermione and Dean’s sex life to the back of his mind and took a seat at the table, going back to his laptop and feeling Hermione’s and Dean’s eyes on him.

“What is it?” He asked, his eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

“Nothing,” they both replied innocently.

He lifted his eyes, seeing them eyeing each other before he shook his head.

“Has Dean filled you in?” He questioned.

“I filled her with something,” Dean muttered, but it wasn’t quiet enough and both he and Hermione heard.

He grimaced and felt his stomach twist and turn and he saw Hermione’s glare before a pillow was sent flying across the room and it smacked Dean in the face. Hermione had remarkably good aim.

“No, he hasn’t. What have you discovered?” She asked him, sending a warning look to Dean, as he eyed Hermione’s wand on the nightstand, seeing that it was very close and within reach should she wish to hex him. Sam knew Dean would behave now.

“So we have three deaths, different appearances, different ages, different classes, but they all attended the same school and they were all cheerleaders, as you know,” Sam spoke and Hermione nodded. “Karen Myers was sixteen and died nine months ago. Zoe Winters was eighteen and died four months ago, and Jess Hughes was seventeen and died three months ago. Causes of deaths were different but they all occurred on or near school grounds and there were no witnesses. Myers drowned in the school’s pool; she hit her head and fell in. Winters committed suicide by hanging herself in the janitor’s store cupboard, and Hughes died in a car collision just outside the school.”

Hermione bit her lip in thought. “Despite how recent these deaths are, I didn’t hear of anyone speaking about them. And it was never explained why the cheerleading team needed members, and no one’s mentioned it to me either. I haven’t gotten any new information for you, but what I do know is that there’s going to be a football game in three days time. They said something about bad weather preventing opposing schools from travelling, so the season carried over,” she shrugged. “The school will be open to visitors so you can have a look around without having to break-in, and if you’re caught you have an excuse for being there.”

“That’ll work,” Sam agreed, looking to Dean.

He shrugged. “I don’t mind waiting a few days.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Sam snorted. “In the meantime, whilst you work on getting information from the cheerleaders, I’ll see if I can find why these girls were targeted.”

“How do we know this is even supernatural?” Hermione asked. “It sounds more like a bad coincidence.”

“It does,” Sam agreed. “But until we’re sure we need to treat this case as though it is supernatural and more often than not, they are.”

~000~000~000~

**Two days later.....**

“Hermione, you’re coming tonight, right?”

“I’m sorry,” she frowned.

She was removing her belongings from her locker as she prepared to leave the school grounds after another practice and to be honest, she was aching all over. Even with the spells she’d placed on her shoes which allowed her to dance and tumble like an experienced gymnast, it still took a lot of energy out of her, and she was looking forward to going back to the motel and being able to collapse on her bed.

She turned to look at Chloe, seeing her also collecting her belongings from her own locker.

“It’s tradition, every night before a game all the girls have a sleepover. We talk, we do each other’s makeup and hair, we watch movies and eat ice-cream and we have another practice.”

Hermione was about to decline, but it seemed Chloe wasn’t allowing it.

“You have to come, you’re one of us now,” Chloe said. “Please come, it won’t be the same without you.”

“I highly doubt that,” Hermione muttered. “Chloe, I’m not comfortable staying in a room with so many people. For so long it’s just been Dean and me, I find it difficult to sleep without him by my side. I have nightmares; I was in the car with my parents, they died and I survived.”

Unexpectedly, Chloe walked over to her and hugged her tightly.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, I didn’t know,” she said, pulling back from her. “And if it makes you feel better, it’s my turn to host the sleepover. If you can’t sleep by yourself, you can share my bed.”

“That’s kind of you, Chloe, but if we have a game tomorrow, I don’t want to disrupt the girls’ sleep, I have a feeling we’re all going to need it.”

“They’ll get over it. They’ll never take you seriously if you don’t come tonight.” Hermione sighed. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses, I’ll see you at seven.”

Chloe practically skipped out of the room, leaving behind a gaping and blinking Hermione. How had she just allowed that to happen? She shook her head and left to the car park where Dean was waiting for her, and she’d been sure to change out of her uniform so Dean wouldn’t be distracted during their ride back to the motel.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” He asked her as she approached the car.

“A seventeen-year-old girl has just confused me into agreeing to attend a sleepover tonight with the rest of the cheerleading team.”

He blinked in surprise, before frowning. “You’re going?”

She sighed. “I don’t particularly want to, but I’m hoping if I go, the girls will trust me enough to tell me about the girls that died. They’ve been surprisingly tight-lipped about it so far.”

“You won’t be able to sleep,” he said.

“I know,” she sighed. “I haven’t taken a Dreamless Sleep since meeting you so I should be fine to take one now. I’ll find a vial out for you, too, so even though we won’t be sleeping beside each other, we’ll both be rested.”

“I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I,” she said. “But if it gives me an opportunity to learn more information then I have to take it.”

~000~000~000~

She’d underestimated the amount of Dreamless Sleep Potions she had with her, meaning she hadn’t checked her stores when she should’ve, and as a result, so only had one vial left, not that she told Dean. And not wanting him to have to suffer through having nightmares because of her decision to spend the night away from him, she left the only vial she had for him.

Hermione admitted that the sleepover hadn’t been as bad as she thought it would be, but never really having many female friends growing up, or having a normal childhood meant she hadn’t really experienced the muggle right of passage of attending a sleepover. They’d chatted, and Hermione had reluctantly given up details about her relationship with Dean to the other girls since they’d been far too interested in her love life, though she contained her annoyance as to not give it away. Of course, she’d lied regarding most of the answers she gave them since she couldn’t tell them the truth, but they seemed to accept the lies she fed them. And after having another practice in Chloe’s back yard, they all sat in Chloe’s bedroom, eating ice-cream and watching what Dean would call ‘chick flicks,’ and halfway through the second film, all of the girls were asleep.

The girls were all sleeping on the floor, surrounded by blankets and cushions, where she was in bed with Chloe, who was also asleep. But Hermione stared at the ceiling, willing herself not to fall asleep though she was losing the battle, and before she knew it, her eyes had closed and the dreams that had left her alone for months returned full force.

~000~000~000~

Hermione bolted awake and she heard a shriek of surprise from her left, and she turned her head to see Chloe staring at her horrified. Hermione took a deep breath, reigning in her emotions and she was thankful that she’d kept her wand in her bag and far away from her, lest she accidentally hurt someone.

“Sorry, Chloe,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes and pushing her hair back from her face.

“It’s alright,” she said quietly in response, obviously still a little bit freaked out and not wanting to wake the other girls. “I know you said you had nightmares, but I never expected that.”

Hermione sighed once more, before laying back down and she felt the mattress shift beside her as Chloe did the same. They were both now wide awake and they stared at the ceiling in silence. Hermione could tell Chloe had questions, but she wasn’t going to ask them, not wanting to upset her.

Hermione admitted to herself, the girls on the cheerleading team weren’t how she’d thought they’d be, but it was her own fault for believing the stereotypical behaviour she saw in movies and TV programmes about them all being mean, stuck up bitches. And whilst some of the girls on the team did seem a little up themselves, most of them were normal, kind girls. Particularly Chloe, who Hermione knew was her favourite of the girls. Chloe had taken her under her wing over the last couple of days and showed Hermione the ropes, she’d helped her learn the routines in a matter of hours and she’d helped her with the jargon of cheerleading, since she didn’t have a clue.

Chloe was a social butterfly as Hermione had witnessed, and if she was going to get information from anyone, Chloe would be the only one worth talking to.

“Chloe?” She said quietly.

“What is it?” She replied, turning her head to look at Hermione.

“Why has the team got so many positions that need to be filled?” Hermione asked, turning her head to look at Chloe. “I saw on the school’s website that there were auditions but it never stated why.”

A sad look crossed her face. “I forgot you wouldn’t know,” Chloe said.

“Wouldn’t know what?” Hermione dared to ask, hoping she was about to get new information that would help them with the case.

“Three of our members died. Karen, nine months ago, Zoe, four months ago and Jess, three months ago.”

Hermione made sure to have a sad, yet shocked look on her face. “How did they die?” She asked softly, seeing that Chloe’s eyes were beginning to tear up, and she turned on her side to face her.

“Karen drowned in the school’s pool, Zoe killed herself and Jess died in a car accident. Their deaths were tragic, but there was no investigation, everything was open and shut within a matter of days.”

“But?” Hermione prompted.

“But I don’t believe what the police said,” she confessed, turning on her side to face Hermione. “The police didn’t know them like I did. I know Jess’ death was an accident, but Karen was a great swimmer. She used to be on the swimming team before she quit and joined the cheerleading team. They said she hit her head and drowned, but she was so careful. She’d grown up swimming in rivers and lakes, she took her safety very seriously, and I don’t believe she would’ve put her life in danger by doing something stupid. I don’t even know why she was at the pool that night; she was supposed to be visiting her sister at college.”

Hermione reached out and Chloe gripped Hermione’s hand in her, grateful for the support and comfort. “You think there was someone else involved?”

“I have no proof, just a feeling. Karen was a bit of a bitch, but not enough for someone to want her dead. And Zoe, she was my friend. I’d known her since I was five. She was the one that convinced me to try out for the team and she worked with me for weeks, helping me to perfect my audition piece and learn the routines before I even made it onto the team. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t even be on the team. Zoe was happy, she was planning to leave Price and go to NYU, she’d applied and she was just waiting to see whether she was accepted or not. She loved her friends, she loved her family and she loved cheerleading. She would never take her own life. She was a devote Christian, suicide is a sin for her, she’d never even contemplate it. I don’t believe she’d do that, I can’t believe she’d do that. She had no reason to.”

Hermione frowned.

“She wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps. She was a cheerleader here, and so was her Grandmother, and her great-Grandmother. Her mother was the captain at NYU, and Zoe planned to do the same. She had her life planned out. She wouldn’t kill herself.”

~000~000~000~

“How’d you sleep?” Dean asked, his eyes watching the teenage girls as they stared out of the window of the house, watching him and Hermione.

“Like a baby, you?” She lied as she approached him.

He smiled. “As if I had you beside me,” he said and she smiled as she reached him and he pulled her into him, hugging her tightly before giving her a chaste kiss.

“So, how bad was it?”

She snorted. “Surprisingly not as bad as I’d thought it would be, but I think it was the right decision.”

“You learn something?” He asked.

“I have and I think we need to head to the library. I have a hunch and if I’m right, it might just crack this case wide open.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Alright then, we’ll head there now and I’ll have Sammy meet us there, it’s not far from the motel so he can walk it. You can tell us what you learned when we get there.”

“Let’s go,” she agreed, pulling back from him.

Dean looked to the window, before winking at the girls watching them. Hermione turned her head, seeing the girls practically melting into a puddle and she smacked Dean in the stomach and he smirked, clearly amused with himself. She rolled her eyes, before giving a little wave to the girls and they climbed in the Impala and drove off.

~000~000~000~

“So, what did you learn?” Sam asked her, as he and Dean followed Hermione through the stacks in the library as she looked for a specific book.

“One of the girls, Chloe, she told me that she doesn’t believe that Myers’ death was an accident or that Winters committed suicide.”

“Why?” Dean asked her, wondering what she was looking for.

“She said Myers had grown up around water, she was an excellent swimmer and was on the swimming team before switching to cheerleading. She was very careful and she wouldn’t have put herself in danger by doing something that would cause her to trip, hurt her head and fall and drown. She said she was a bitch, but not enough for anyone to want her dead, but she doesn’t agree with the police’s ruling of the case.”

“Alright, and Winters?”

“Chloe had known Winters from the age of five and they were friends. She was adamant that Winters was perfectly happy with her life, she loved her friends and family, she loved cheerleading and she was planning her future, she’d even applied to colleges.”

“That’s unusual, especially if she’d wished to take her own life,” Sam agreed.

“I know, but Chloe also said that Winters was a devout Christian, suicide is a sin and she’d never put her family through that.”

“Hughes died in a car collision, but I was able to get my hands on the report. The brakes failed.”

“And?” Hermione questioned.

“The car was only purchased a month before the accident. The brakes should’ve been in perfect working order, yet they failed and there was no obvious tampering or sabotage. The death was ruled as an accident.”

“So we have two apparent accidents and one apparent suicide, that all took place on or near school grounds,” Hermione said thoughtfully.

“If we are dealing with a spirit, what’s the motive behind the deaths?” Dean asked.

“That’s why we’re here.”

“Are you going to tell us what this hunch of yours is?”

“In a minute,” she replied. “Ah, found them,” she said, pulling several books from the shelves and moving over to a table, where there sat several computers nearby for Dean and Sam to use.

She sat at the table and gestured for the brothers to get themselves comfortable at the computers. They looked at her curiously but did so, and they turned to face her whilst she flicked through the yearbooks she’d pulled.

“What are you looking for?” Sam finally asked fifteen minutes later, seeing Hermione flicking through several books at once as they laid spread out and open in front of her.

“Chloe mentioned that Winters’ mother was a cheerleader at the school, as was her Grandmother and great-Grandmother, and she was right. I’ve found them in the yearbooks. I’ve also discovered that Hughes’ Aunt was a cheerleader, too, as was her Grandmother and great-Grandmother. And Myers’ Grandmother, great-Grandmother and Aunt were, too. So, our three victims all have that in common, and from these yearbooks, they all attended school within three years of each other.”

“And?”

“I want you to see if you can find any other deaths over the last few decades.”

“We tried, there was nothing.”

“You searched the names, Myers, Winters and Hughes, you never thought to do the maiden names of the parents since we didn’t know about the familial cheerleading connection,” she pointed out. “Call it a hunch, but I’m betting you’ll find something.”

“It’s worth a try,” Dean shrugged, taking a yearbook from her so he could search for the names listed, and Sam did the same with another.

~000~000~000~

“You’re right,” Sam said in surprise. “There were four deaths sixteen years ago within a period of three years. Three of them were cheerleaders, and all of them related to each of the victims in some way, two were cousins, one a brother and another a sister.”

“And I’ve found four deaths, too, all taking place thirty-six years ago within a time period of four years. All of them related to the victims, but only two of them were cheerleaders,” Dean said, turning to look at Hermione in surprise.

She bit her lip. “So they were targeted, and although it was made to look accidental or suicidal, we know different. We know the victims are connected through familial matches, but why are they being targeted.”

“I came across an article that was linked with some of the names that had been searched,” Sam spoke. “A fifteen-year-old girl, Brenda Combe, committed suicide after being severely bullied by some of the girls from the cheerleading team. She hung herself during school hours and did so in the cafeteria for all to see. She left a note, blaming her bullies for her suffering and death.”

“And let me guess, the names are related to all of the victims?” Hermione said.

“Yes, they were. This was fifty-seven years ago, which means the victims Dean found were the first generation of children or relatives from the bullies, the victims I found were the second generation, and the current victims are the third generation. This sounds like a vengeful spirit.”

“Awesome,” Dean sighed.

“Wait a minute,” Hermione frowned. “You said you both found four victims each?” They both nodded in confusion. “There’s only been three deaths,” she said.

They both blinked before their eyes widened. “Which means there’s going to be another attack,” Sam muttered. “If we can find the next victim, we can prevent anything from happening whilst we deal with the spirit. Who is it? The last name on the suicide note was Penelope Harrison.”

“Harrison, Harrison, Harrison,” Hermione muttered as she took back the yearbooks and flicked through them quickly, making her way through previous years in order to lead her to the current roster of students.

“No,” she whispered, seeing the picture that sat in front of her.

“What?” Dean asked, moving away from the computer and over to her.

“It’s Chloe. She’s the next victim.”


	84. Chapter 84

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 10

“We won’t let anything happen to her,” Dean said quietly, whilst Hermione sat beside him in the passenger’s seat, her leg bouncing nervously and her eyes watching out the window as they approached their destination of their motel.

She turned her head to look at him. “I wouldn’t be as bothered if it were one of the other girls, but Chloe...She’s different. I actually like her, and if I were ten years younger, I could easily see myself being friends with her. She reminds me a lot of Ginny and Luna. She’s got Luna’s innocence and kindness and Ginny’s confidence and fire. She doesn’t deserve this, none of them do.”

“I know, and that’s why it’s our job to stop it before anyone else gets hurt. We’ll get cleaned up, have dinner and head to the school. Sammy and I will take care of the spirit and you can stay with Chloe and keep an eye on her. We know the spirit’s after her, but we don’t know when it’ll strike. If it knows we’re here to stop it, it’ll stop at nothing to get to her.”

“If I have to, I’ll use my magic to protect her. I can always alter her memories once this is all over,” she replied.

“Er, guys, we have a problem,” Sam spoke up from the back seat.

“What?” They both asked.

“Brenda Combe was cremated.”

“Of course she fucking was,” Dean grumbled. “Why is this never easy?”

“You have the worst luck in the world,” Hermione replied, lifting her hands to her temples to stave off the headache. “We need to figure out what the spirit’s attached itself to as soon as possible, and that could be anything.”

“Well, we know that all the deaths have occurred on or near the school grounds, meaning the spirit can’t go further than that, so we’re looking for something that’s remained on the school grounds since the suicide,” Dean spoke.

“But it still could be anything,” Hermione sighed.

“It still could be anything,” Sam agreed. “Is there anything you can do to help us find it?”

She bit her lip in thought and they remained silent, allowing her time to think. Dean pulled into the motel parking lot and they all exited the car and headed to their room, where Hermione slumped down on the bed and put her head in her hands.

The brothers sat at the table in silence, waiting for her to come up with a possible solution that would save them a lot of trouble.

Fifteen minutes later Hermione looked up and both Dean and Sam perked up at seeing the look on her face. She looked hopeful. She found her beaded bag before she dug around inside of it, and much to her relief she found an old compass that used to belong to her father. She hadn’t even realised she still had it, but it was going to come in handy.

“What’ve you got, Glinda?” Dean asked.

She showed them both the compass in her hand, seeing their confused looks in return.

“I may be able to cast a Locator Charm on this compass, so that it will lead you straight to the item we’re looking for.”

“That’s great,” Sam said relieved.

“The only problem being,” she interrupted and he deflated. “We don’t know what we’re looking for. Ghosts have different magical energies, as I’m sure you know, and it’ll be too difficult for me to tap into that to allow the compass to lead you straight to the item, but we need the energy reading in order to activate the Locator Charm.”

They both frowned. “Meaning?” Dean asked.

“Meaning we need to connect the spirit’s energy to the compass.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?”

“Simple, the spirit has to touch the compass. I’ll cast all the appropriate charms, the spirit will have to be lured out of hiding, which means she’ll likely go for Chloe. When she appears, I’ll protect Chloe, whilst one of you throws the compass through the spirit and once that’s happened, it’ll lead you straight to the item. You deal with destroying it, and I’ll keep Chloe safe.”

They both blinked. “The football game’s tonight, right?” Sam said.

“Yes,” Hermione nodded.

“They’ll be a lot of people at risk.”

“That’s true, but if we can keep the spirit away from the football field we should be fine. The game and noise from the crowd will cover any noises we make and if the spirit knows your trying to destroy it, it may focus on you rather than the others.”

“So we’re bait, lovely,” Dean deadpanned.

“Now that we have a plan, I’ll get to work on charming the compass, you boys can get yourselves ready and then we’ll head out. I’ll make sure Chloe doesn’t leave my side.”

~000~000~000~

“There’s a lot of people here,” Hermione mumbled, standing beside Chloe and watching as the crowd of people began to file in, filling the stands until there were too many faces to count.

“No, there’s not,” Chloe rolled her eyes.

“Yes, there is,” Hermione argued. “I don’t think I can do this. They’re all staring.”

“They’re not staring, and you can do this. You know the routines, you know the music and you know the girls won’t let anything happen to you. Stop being a baby, pull yourself together and show them what you’re capable of.”

Hermione blinked at her dumbly.

“You girls ready?” Bethany approached them, her brown hair left down but tied back from her face with a pretty red ribbon.

“No,” Hermione said.

“Yes,” Chloe responded, elbowing Hermione lightly in the side. “She’s just nervous.”

“Don’t be,” Bethany said. “You’ve done well in practice and I’m surprised you’ve picked up the routines so quickly given you have no cheerleading experience, you can do this. I know you can, and so do the girls. Now come on, we have a job to do, the football team’s about to make their big entrance.”

Hermione grumbled as Chloe pulled her towards the other girls by her hand and despite Hermione doing her best to dig her feet into the ground, Chloe was bloody strong and it didn’t help in the least.

The girls were going over last-minute pep talks, while Hermione bent down in the pretence of checking her shoelaces, when in fact she was muttering the spell to allow her to dance and tumble like a cheerleader, with her wand hidden in the waistband of her skirt so it was close by but no one would see it.

Chloe dragged Hermione up and into position, and just as the music was about to begin, Hermione caught sight of Dean, sitting in the stands and watching her intensely.

She glared at him and he smirked in reply, giving her a little wave.

“I’m going to kill him,” she muttered darkly.

Chloe’s eyes followed hers and upon seeing Dean watching Hermione, she elbowed her once more.

“Stop being mean, I think it’s sweet, he obviously loves you and he’s here to support you.”

“Trust me, Chloe, he’s not here to support me. He gets a kick out of seeing me in my uniform.”

Chloe appeared to be confused. “What do you mean?”

Hermione turned to Chloe and raised her eyebrow and suddenly Chloe must’ve understood her meaning as she cleared her throat and she blushed bright red.

“Oh,” she said, shifting on her feet awkwardly. “Well, it’s still sweet that he’s here for you.”

“I’m still going to kill him,” Hermione muttered, just as the music began. She looked at Dean one final time and he winked at her. She scowled.

“Focus,” Chloe chided.

~000~000~000~

“See, it wasn’t so bad was it?” Chloe said.

She was standing beside Hermione whilst cheering for their team who were currently in possession of the football, and that’s all Hermione understood, she didn’t bother following along with the game since she didn’t know the rules, she didn’t understand it, and also because she was trying to keep her wits about her. Dean had disappeared half an hour ago and she had no idea if he and Sam were successful in finding the item and banishing the vengeful spirit.

“I suppose not,” Hermione replied, wincing when one of their players was tackled to the ground.

“Well, I better head to the bathroom before my bladder bursts,” Chloe commented.

“I’ll come with you, I’m a nervous drinker and I drank way too much water on the ride over here.”

Chloe snorted at her before looping her arm through Hermione’s and they left the football field, heading back to the school and to the toilets in the changing rooms since they were the closest.

Hermione kept her wits about her the entire time with her hand hovering over her waist where her wand was stowed and Chloe was none the wiser to the danger she was in. If the vengeful spirit hadn’t planned on attacking Chloe that night, Hermione was sure she would try now that Sam and Dean were purposely trying to lure her out.

Chloe left the bathroom stall and washed and dried her hands, before they exited the changing rooms and slowly made their way back to the football field, but their journey was interrupted as Hermione spied Dean bursting through the door and running down the corridor towards them.

If he was surprised to see them he didn’t show it.

“Run! This bitch is crazy!” He yelled as he approached them.

Hermione’s eyes widened when the vengeful spirit made herself known, though it was difficult to see the appearance and clothing it wore, she was only focused on the red eyes of the fifteen-year-old girl that had killed herself.

“Oh My God! It’s a...It’s a...It’s a ghost!” Chloe stuttered, looking pale and as though she were about to faint.

“Welcome to our world, Peppy,” Dean said, and he didn’t stop running as he grabbed Hermione’s hand and pulled her after him, while Hermione grabbed hold of Chloe’s and pulled her after her, until the three of them were running down the corridor.

“Shit! Duck!” Dean called, and the three of them ducked as a fire extinguisher went flying over their heads and it smashed through a window.

“I’ve never had a fire extinguisher thrown at me before!” Hermione panted.

“Me either, that’s a new one,” Dean replied sounding amused.

“Who are you people?” Chloe demanded, looking to be on the verge of crying and she looked behind her, before giving a loud scream as the spirit advanced on them.

“We can’t outrun it,” Hermione said, and knowing she was right, Dean halted to a stop, as did Hermione, who pulled Chloe to a stop and they turned around to face the ghost.

Dean drew his handgun, before pulling another he kept in one of the pockets of his new leather jacket and handing it to Hermione.

“Salt pellets?” She asked.

“Right in one, Sweetheart, you’re getting quite good at this hunting thing,” he said.

She elbowed him in the side before they both took aim and shot off several rounds, all of them going straight through the ghost before it vanished.

“We’ve got a head start of a few minutes,” Dean said, before grabbing Hermione’s hand and pulling her down the corridor and Chloe followed after them, apparently realising she was safer with them.

They entered an empty classroom and Chloe immediately began pacing and muttering to herself and Hermione and Dean watched her carefully. She finally stopped pacing and turned to face them both.

“What the hell was that! Who are you people! What’s happening!” She demanded.

Dean nodded to Hermione and she stepped forward, seeing Chloe step back whilst eyeing the gun in her hand.

“Chloe, I am not Hermione Banks, nor am I a transfer student or cheerleader and gymnast. My name is Hermione Winchester, and this is my husband, Dean.” Chloe’s eyes widened, whilst Dean gave her a little two-finger salute in greeting. “I’m not eighteen, but twenty-seven and it is our job to protect people from the supernatural.”

“Supernatural?”

“Yes, ghosts, demons, gods, things such as that.”

“They’re not real,” she shook her head.

“They are and you’ve just witnessed it. We’re here because we know of the deaths of the girls on the team, I was sent in undercover to discover more information to help us find the killer. You were right, Chloe; Karen, Zoe and Jess were murdered, and they were murdered by the ghost you just saw. We’re here to stop it, so no one else will get hurt.”

Chloe had tears falling down her face. “Why were they murdered?”

“It has nothing to do with you, but your ancestors. Your great-Grandmothers to be exact. When they were in school and cheerleaders, they bullied a girl and she committed suicide. When she died she became a vengeful spirit and since then, she’s killed a member of all four of the girls’ families in each generation for revenge.”

“Four?” She said quietly.

“Yes, Chloe, you’re the ghost’s next victim.”

She began to hyperventilate. Hermione engulfed her in a hug and coaxed her through her breathing as Chloe clung to her.

“We’re not going to let anything hurt you, Chloe. This is our job, we deal with the supernatural for a living, we know what we’re doing, we’ll protect you and we’ll kill the ghost.”

Hermione looked up to Dean.

“Sammy’s got the compass, we were able to get it to pass through the ghost and he’s using it to find the item. Since that crazy bitch is still here, it means he hasn’t found it yet.”

“So we need to keep it busy and away from the football field; there’s too many potential casualties.”

Hermione pulled back from Chloe, seeing that she was a lot calmer now that she’d gotten her breathing back under control and she moved away from her and over to Dean, and he pulled her into a hug.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, you?” She replied.

“Not bad, though I can think of more pleasurable activities to be doing to you with you in that uniform, rather than hiding out from a demented ghost.”

She slapped at his chest. “I can’t believe you bloody sat in the stands and watched.”

“I couldn’t resist,” he grinned at her.

“This is the last time I’m ever going undercover as a cheerleader. If a case pops up that requires it, you can do it next time.”

He snorted. “Like I’ve said before, the skirt wouldn’t look as good on me as it does you.”

“Hands to yourself,” she warned.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” he said innocently.

“No, but you were thinking about it.”

“You know me so well,” he chuckled, pushing a loose curl back from her face.

“Hermione!” Chloe gave a terrifying scream and when she turned around, Chloe was being dragged across the floor by an invisible force.

Hermione and Dean rushed forward and each grabbed a hold of Chloe’s hands, pulling her towards them.

“Hermione, shoot it!”

“I can’t bloody see it, how the hell am I suppose to do that!” She shouted back to Dean.

They both gave a hard tug that had them falling backwards onto the ground, but they were able to pull Chloe free of the invisible force. The three of them stood up and ran for the door as the ghost appeared in the room, and not looking pleased. They ran into the corridor just as a desk slammed into the door frame.

“Down there!” Chloe pointed to the left and they skidded to a stop before following her instructions and turning left.

Chloe held onto Hermione’s hand tightly as she looked behind her, seeing the ghost floating after them and she screamed. Dean turned his head to look behind him and he cursed, before turning slightly and firing off a salt round, missing the ghost and almost running into a wall, if it weren’t for Hermione who pulled him out of the way by his jacket.

Hermione held her hand out and wordlessly summoned Dean’s phone from his pocket before dialling Sam’s number on the speed dial, he picked up after the third ring.

“Dean?”

“Where the bloody hell are you!” Hermione shouted down the phone. “We’re being chased through the bloody school by a ghost hell-bent on killing us! Get a move on and find the bloody item and destroy it so we can all go and get dinner.”

Dean snorted from beside her.

“We’ve got a problem. I’m in the gym, I’ll wait for you.”

The called ended. “The gym,” she said, and thankfully Chloe took control and lead them in the direction they needed to be, and Dean was able to shoot a salt round through the ghost, buying them more time.

They burst through the doors to the gym and Sam turned in their direction, his gun pointed at them before seeing who it was and he lowered his arm. Chloe, Dean and Hermione came to a stop and they panted as they tried to get their breath back.

“Chloe, this is Dean’s brother Sam, Sam, Chloe,” Hermione introduced through her pants.

Sam nodded to Chloe and she nodded back.

“What’s the problem?” Hermione asked.

Sam looked down to the ground directly in front of him, and upon seeing the compass in his hand and the look on his face, she put the pieces together.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” She exclaimed.

Dean frowned, before looking between the floor, the compass and Sam, and he put the pieces together, too.

“Give us a fucking break!” He sighed, glaring up at the ceiling before he and Hermione moved over to Sam and they all looked down at the floor.

“Exactly, whatever it is, it’s buried under here. I don’t know how or why,” Sam said.

“It’s newly built,” Chloe piped up from behind them, and they all turned to face her. “There used to be some sort of memorial park here, but the gym was built over the top of it less than a decade ago.”

“Awesome,” Dean commented. “Glinda, can you do anything? Whatever we need is under here.”

She frowned and bit her lip in thought. “Stand back,” she told them, and they took several steps back. She pulled her wand and pointed it at the ground. “ _Bombarda_ ,” she called, and a loud explosion rang out before the flooring of the gym, concrete and mud was falling to the ground. Chloe stared at her, having no idea what she’d just done, whilst the brothers looked impressed.

“Nicely done, Sweetheart,” Dean complimented, just as the ghost appeared in the gym.

Chloe screamed and ran to hide behind Hermione, while Dean and Sam trained their guns on the approaching spirit, firing off rounds. This left Hermione to deal with the item.

“ _Accio_ ,” she called.

Much to her relief, an old wooden box flew up from the ground and landed on the floor, and she had the padlock open with an _Alohamora_ before she opened the box, and pulled out what looked to be a dirty and old looking bit of rope.

Hearing the fire of the brothers’ guns, Hermione cast an _Incendio_ and watched as the flames devoured the offering. A blood-curdling scream was heard before the spirit burst into flames and she was dragged down underground.

It was over.

Hermione turned to see Chloe crying and she hugged her, feeling the way she shook in her arms and clung to her tightly like a frightened child would their mother.

“It’s over now,” Hermione said. “She’s gone and she can’t and won’t hurt anyone else again. I promise.”

“What was it?” Sam asked curiously and she looked to the brothers.

“A bit of rope, and judging by the fact it was tied in a noose, I would say it was what she’d used to kill herself with.”

“Lovely,” Dean said and she glared at him.

“You’re going to be fine, Chloe,” she said softly, turning her attention back to the teenage girl that was slowly pulling herself together and calming down.

“We should go before the game ends,” Sam said. “You said you wanted dinner, and we need to be out of here by morning. We’ve already got another case from Bobby; he called this morning and wants us to check out a few suspicious deaths in Madison, Wisconsin.”

Dean groaned. “That’s almost fifteen thousand miles from here; there must be another Hunter closer to the area.”

“There’s several,” Sam nodded.

“Then why can’t they take it?”

“Suspected werewolf,” Sam shrugged and Dean groaned once more.

“Fine, let’s go. I want food and sleep; we’re going to need it with the long drive ahead of us.”

“You’re leaving?” Chloe sniffled, pulling back from Hermione, and Dean and Sam moved to give them some privacy.

“I have to Chloe, this is our job. We travel the States, protecting people and dealing with the supernatural, preventing them from harming others. We’re never in one place for long. It’s a dangerous profession but it’s what we’re best at.”

“But I don’t want you to go, you’re my friend.”

Hermione smiled. “And you’re a brilliant friend. You’re so kind and caring, and I’m honestly going to miss you, but I don’t belong here. I’m not a cheerleader, I’m not a student, I’m a married, twenty-seven-year-old that travels with her husband and brother-in-law protecting people from things they could never even dream of believing to exist. You have your whole life ahead of you. Make the most of it, be brilliant, make something of yourself, but most importantly, be safe and be happy. I have to go, thank you, Chloe, I never experienced a normal childhood, and I’d never been to an actual sleepover before, but now thanks to you I can say I have.”

She smiled at her and turned to walk away, deciding that she wasn’t going to wipe her memories. She had seen her use magic, but she had no idea that was what it was.

“You can’t leave, what am I going to tell the others?”

Hermione turned around and smiled.

“Tell them that I had to leave with Dean as his father has been involved in an accident and that you don’t know when or if I’ll return. And if you ever need me...” Hermione pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from thin air, making Chloe blink before she handed over the paper with a phone number written on it. “That is the phone number of one of my brothers back in Britain, give him a call, tell him that I gave you that number should you need to contact me. He’ll let me know and where ever you are, I’ll find you. Goodbye, Chloe.”

Hermione turned and disappeared out of the gym, leaving behind a mess, a massive hole in the floor and a gawking teenage girl.

“All done?” Dean asked.

“All done,” she confirmed

He smiled and put his arm around her shoulders as they made their way back to the Impala with Sam.

“Let’s get you fed, I’m sure you’re just starving,” he said.

She nodded. “I think I’ll get something to take away, too, in case I wake for a midnight snack.” They both snorted at her.

“By the way, we’re keeping this uniform,” he spoke, gesturing to her cheerleading uniform.

She rolled her eyes and Sam grimaced, making a sound of disgust.

“I hate you both,” he muttered and stormed away from them.


	85. Chapter 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 7

**One month later...**

“Why do you hate me!” Dean muttered.

“I don’t hate you, stop being so dramatic,” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes and moving to sit on the edge of the bed and tugging at the blanket Dean had pulled over his head.

She had to stop herself from laughing when he lowered the blanket and he glared at her weakly, his skin looking pale and sweat shining on his forehead.

“Then why did you wake me up?” He grouched.

“To see if you wanted some soup bringing back. Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault you’re sick. I told you not to eat that burrito, it smelled funny and the colour was off.”

“It tasted fine,” he argued.

“If it was fine you wouldn’t be spewing your guts up, now would you? Next time maybe you’ll listen to me, after experiencing food poisoning I’m staying well away from all seafood. Now, do you want some soup bringing back or not?”

He scowled admitting defeat and shook his head. “No, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it down, there’s no point.”

“Alright, make sure you keep yourself hydrated.”

“I’ll just throw it back up,” he replied.

“Dip your finger into some water and rub it into your gums, it’ll keep you hydrated without actually having to drink water. We’ve had to do it for the kids several times when they’ve had the flu and it works well. Sam and I shouldn’t be gone too long, so I’ll see you when I get back. Get some rest.”

“I feel like shit.”

“I know,” she said.

“It wasn’t this painful for you.”

“If you say so,” she said, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice and failing.

“It wasn’t; you didn’t have stomach cramps,” he protested.

“Yes I did, though I didn’t see any point in complaining about them, particularly since I also had period cramps to go along with the rest of my symptoms of vomiting, headaches, dizziness, sweating and aching muscles and joints, and don’t you remember having to carry me out of the shower, helping me to dress and then putting me to bed? Get some rest and you’ll feel better.”

“I’m dying!”

“Well, can you make sure you do it quietly, we can’t have you disrupting the neighbours?”

Before Dean could reply, she leaned over and kissed his forehead and then stood and left their motel room, heading straight to the Impala where Sam was waiting for her.

“Still complaining?” He asked as she climbed into the passenger’s side and she shut the door behind her.

“Yes, he’s adamant he’s dying.” Sam snorted. “For someone that’s been stabbed, shot and dragged down to hell, he sure complains a lot when he has a mild case of food poisoning.”

“You should see him when he’s got a cold.”

“I can’t wait,” she said sarcastically.

He chuckled at her. “So, back to business. Bodies then relatives or relatives then bodies?”

“Let’s get the bodies out of the way, it’s my least favourite part of the job.”

“Morgue it is,” he nodded, switching on the ignition.

“Want to make it interesting?” She asked.

“How so?” He replied curiously and turning in his seat to face her.

“If you can get into the morgue before me, I’ll give you one hundred and fifty dollars, but if I beat you, you have to look after Dean.”

He scowled. “You’ll use magic.”

“I won’t, I swear, I’ll even give you my wand when we get there.”

Sam’s scowl didn’t disappear. “But he’s your husband.”

“And he’s your brother,” she shrugged.

“But he’s a nightmare when he’s sick. I’ve dealt with him all my life; it’s your turn now.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, if I beat you, you have to babysit the kids by yourself for an hour.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, deciding whether or not it was better for him to deal with Dean or three children under the age of seven. The answer was obvious.

“Agreed.”

~000~000~000~

Sam waltzed into the morgue with his hands in his pockets and he looked about the room, seeing it empty a smug smile appeared on his face.

“What took you so long?”

Sam jumped and turned around, seeing Hermione step out from behind the door he’d just opened.

“But...How did you...I don’t understand.”

She smirked at him. “Stick with me Sammy and you’ll learn a few things.”

~000~000~000~

“I hope there’s only one,” Hermione sighed. “I can’t be bothered having to fight off more than one vampire, especially in this heat.”

She opened her motel room and Sam followed in after her, the sound of Dean throwing up in the bathroom meeting their ears.

They looked to each other.

“He’s not pregnant, I swear, he took a test,” Hermione said.

Sam snorted at her, before taking his lunch over to the table and sitting down, not in the slightest bit put off by his brother currently throwing up his guts in the bathroom.

Hermione removed her jacket and hung it on the chair before moving into the bathroom, seeing that Dean had apparently finished throwing up and he was now brushing his teeth. He was dressed in a different shirt and boxers and his hair was damp, which meant he’d either taken a shower since she’d been gone or he’d sweated through his clothing and had to change, though she suspected the former was more likely.

“Feeling any better?” She asked. He glared at her in the mirror. “That’s a no then.” She moved over to him and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, feeling that he had a temperature.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” she said, allowing him to finish brushing his teeth before dragging him out of the bathroom and over to their bed.

She climbed on beside him and sat with her back pressed to the headboard. Dean turned on his side to face her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face against her stomach. Hermione chuckled as she brought her hand up and ran it through his hair, hearing him sigh when she scratched lightly at his scalp.

“Feeling shit?” Sam asked from across the room.

“Yeah, and I have a headache so stop shouting,” Dean muttered in response, nudging Hermione’s shirt up with his nose until it pressed against the bare skin of her stomach and she giggled when it tickled.

“Well if you’re going to be sick, do it in the bathroom, I’m eating over here.”

“Shove off,” he mumbled, lifting his head to glare at him weakly, before burying it back against Hermione’s stomach. “I’m sick.”

“In the head, yes, I know.”

Hermione snorted but decided to defuse the situation before Dean lost his temper and shot his brother.

“Sam, leave your brother alone, he’s clearly dying and would like to do so in peace.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, not fully having registered Hermione’s words and Sam smirked at her whilst she winked in response.

“Get some sleep, Patrick,” she said, tapping her wand against Dean’s forehead and casting a Cooling Charm to help bring his temperature down.

“Why didn’t you do that when you were sick?” He asked tiredly.

“I was too weak to cast any magic, so I suffered as a muggle would, luckily for you, you no longer have to. Now, stop talking and sleep, allow your body to fight off the virus and you should be fine in a couple of days.”

~000~000~000~

“Glinda! Glinda!”

Hermione sighed, before spitting out the remainder of the toothpaste from her mouth and washing her toothbrush beneath the running water.

“What?” She called.

“I have a headache.”

“So do I,” she muttered to herself, before exiting the bathroom and seeing Dean looking sorry for himself and cocooned in the blanket.

“Take some aspirin.”

“I used the last of it last night.”

“Then I’ll get you some more before I come back.”

“But I have a headache now,” he whined.

“Then stop talking.”

He scowled. “I thought you witches had an instant pain reliever.”

“We do, but it’s in liquid form and you’re still unable to keep anything down. It would be a waste of time, the effects would wear off the moment you bring it back up.”

“But my head hurts.”

“Mine too,” she mumbled.

A glare appeared on her face when she spied Sam sat at the table in her room with his laptop and barely containing his laughter at her annoyance. He smirked at her glare. She narrowed her eyes on him in warning before walking over to her beaded bag and fishing out Mina, her teddy bear.

Dean eyed it strangely as she held it out to him. “Why are you trying to give me your bear?”

“It’s not just any bear,” she told him. “Despite it being muggle made, it’s been around magic since I was born, and I brought it into the Wizarding World with me. When I was old enough to begin properly experimenting with magic, I cast spells on my bear in hopes that it would absorb the effects of the magic. This was back when I began to have an interest in spell creation. My bear is no longer a normal bear. There’s a reason I asked you to get him for me when I was ill. There’s a spell on it that helps to ease the aches and pains in the body, such as headaches and migraines, and the effects are similar to a Pain Potion. My bear also helps you to sleep by calming your brain waves and clearing your mind, similar to a Dreamless Sleep Potion. All you have to do is hold it against you and you’ll be asleep within minutes, and I promise you’ll feel better later on.”

He narrowed his eyes on her before begrudgingly taking the bear from her and holding it in his hand.

“I said hold it against you,” she said.

He glared before snuggling down into bed and holding the bear against his chest with his arms wrapped around it, similar to how a small child would. She had to stop herself from laughing at him, though Sam didn’t bother trying to hide his amusement.

“You’ll feel a lot better when you wake, now, we better go, I’ll see you later.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek before quickly leaving the room with Sam behind her.

“Was what you told him true?” He asked curiously.

She snorted. “No, I lied.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Do you know what a placebo is?”

Sam blinked. “Yes, but that’s usually with candy.”

“Well he was getting on my nerves; I thought I may as well get some enjoyment out of it.”

He laughed at her. “And if I get sick?”

“I’ll do what I can for you, but if you’re anything like Dean, I’ll hex you until you don’t even remember your own name.”

“Noted.”

~000~000~000~

“My head hurts, you said the bear would make it better.”

“No, I said it would help to ease the pain. You just need some more rest, and you haven’t thrown up since last night, I’ll make you some toast and you should drink some water. Sam thinks he’s got a possible location on the vampire, hopefully, there’s only one. We’re leaving soon.”

“Be careful, I don’t think our marriage would survive you being a vampire.”

She snorted. “I don’t suppose it would, you’d want to kill me every five minutes, but I suppose that’s how our relationship started and look where we are now.”

“I’m in bed dying.”

“You’re not dying,” she rolled her eyes. “I suspect you’ll be fine by tomorrow night. Stop being so dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic,” he argued and he sat up in bed, holding her bear to his chest tightly as he scowled at her.

She smothered her laugh at the sight he made. “You are, you’ve been stabbed and shot and you didn’t complain as much as this. I’ll nip out and get some bread and I’ll make you some toast, I’ll be back soon.”

~000~000~000~

“Hermione!”

“I’m okay,” she groaned, pushing off pieces of an old bookcase off herself since it had been knocked over and landed on her. “But when I get my hands on the arsehole that pushed a bookcase on to me he’s going to lose more than his bloody head!”

She heard Sam snort from the other side of the room.

“As funny as that would be, I could use your help over here!”

Hermione pushed the last piece of wood off herself and stood up, brushing herself down and huffing. She held her wand in her hand tightly and stormed over to the other side of the room, seeing Sam struggling against the abnormally large vampire. Before the vampire could turn his attention to her, she lobbed a Severing Charm at it, his head being taken clean off.

“It’s not fair, it’s so much easier for you,” Sam all but whined.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault I was born a witch, and if you want to get technical, you’re a lot stronger than me, it’s much easier for you to slice off a head with a machete than it is for me. Besides, I’d rather not get too close to a vampire, Dean would kill me if he ended up being married to a vampire. Now, where’s the other arsehole that took a swipe at me?” Sam snorted. “He can’t have gone far; I warded the building to prevent vampires from escaping. Let’s go hunting.”

~000~000~000~

“Hey, how you feeling?” Hermione asked, moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside her half-asleep husband.

Dean shielded his eyes from the morning sun shining through the gap in the curtains.

“Better,” he admitted. “How’d the hunt go, I didn’t hear you come in last night?”

“That would be because you were dead to the world, your snores all but made the room shake.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You did last night; I had to put a Silencing Charm up to stop the neighbours from complaining.” He scowled at her. “And everything went fine, even though one of the bastards knocked a bookcase onto me, he learned his mistake afterwards.”

“Are you hurt?” He frowned, sitting up and his eyes scanning her for any injuries.

She shook her head. “No, I had a few bruises forming last night but I put some Bruise Removal Paste on and they’re all gone now, they weren’t that bad. Sam had a few cuts and scrapes but I healed them for him, too. We’re all done with the case. Now, do you want some toast?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I want the greasiest, fattiest, most disgusting thing we can find.”

“Welcome back to sanity,” she said amused, laughing when he tackled her onto the bed and caging her beneath him. “You really are better.”

He grinned down at her, his head lowering with the intent to kiss her, only there was a knock at the door and Sam waltzed in.

“I see you’re feeling better,” Sam commented when he saw the position the two of them were in.

“As always, you have really bad timing.”

Sam shrugged. “We’ve got a case.”

“I hate you,” he muttered, dropping his head into Hermione’s neck.


	86. Chapter 86

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 9

“Ricky, what did I say about bringing mice to the car? Dean will have a conniption if he sees it,” Hermione scolded the little owl, before swiftly looking behind her to ensure that Dean and Sam were both still in the shop, choosing snacks and beverages for their trip towards their next case.

Hermione kicked the dead mouse under the car before taking the package attached to Ricky’s leg.

“You heading home?” She asked him. He hooted in response. “Off you go then, but don’t be taking any mice into the apartment, you don’t want Mimsy chasing after you,” she warned. He hooted before pecking at her finger affectionately and then flying off.

She looked around before enlarging the package and opening it up and she groaned when she saw the contents.

“I’m sure I just saw your little demon owl out here.”

She turned her head to see the brothers approaching her.

“You did,” she told her husband. “He was just dropping off a package, I’ve sent him home.”

“Anything good?”

“No,” she sighed, showing him the large stack of papers that sat inside the box with The Ministry of Magic logo stamped across the first page.

“That looks fun,” Sam commented.

“I wish, it’s the annual performance review which I have to carry out on not only my department itself, but I also have to do individual performance reviews and staff appraisals with each member of my team, meaning we’ll have to return to England at some point in the next few weeks so I can call a meeting and get all my agents to return to England. It’s going to mean long office hours, so, unfortunately, we probably won’t see much of each other.”

Sam shrugged. “Ginny mentioned that she was going to return to her Quidditch team soon, we can have the kids for her whilst you’re at work. It’ll give Molly a break and allow us to spend some time with them since we don’t see them that often.”

Hermione turned to look at Dean and he nodded in agreement with his brother. “I don’t mind watching the kids for a few hours,” he shrugged.

“See, that’s sorted. We’ll take care of this case then head to England for however long you need.”

“I should be able to get it all done in less than a week. I can do the department analysis in the car, it’s the staffing reviews that I need to do on a one to one basis, some can take thirty minutes, others hours.”

“Then let’s go,” Dean said, making his way to the driver’s side.

“You just want to get this over with so you can see Lily Petal,” Hermione snorted.

“She’s cute,” he argued.

“And got you wrapped around her little finger,” she said amused.

“She has not!” He denied.

Hermione and Sam looked at each other disbelievingly.

“She has you wrapped around her little finger like a succubus does a man’s heart,” Sam said and Hermione sniggered.

Dean scowled at them.

“He’s not wrong, that little girl owns you and you don’t even know it,” Hermione shrugged.

“When you two have kids, Lily is going to be introduced to the emotion of jealousy for the first time,” Sam shook his head, before moving over to the car and missing the pained look on Hermione’s face.

Dean walked over to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders and he kissed her forehead.

“It’ll happen, sooner or later it will, we just have to keep trying,” he muttered.

~000~000~000~

“Glinda, I’m sure I just saw something circling above us,” Dean said.

Hermione pulled her attention away from the paperwork in front of her and she frowned. She leaned forward to better look out the window until she saw a small, black owl swoop down and almost hit the car.

“It’s an owl,” she said, sounding confused since she didn’t recognise it and it was too small to be one from The Ministry. “It’ll keep circling until you pull over.”

Dean wasted no time in pulling the car over and Hermione stepped out as the owl dropped the letter into her hands before perching itself on the roof of the car, much to Dean’s annoyance.

She frowned, not recognising the handwriting on the envelope and she drew her wand, waving it over the letter and checking it for any potentially harmful hexes or substances.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets, whilst Dean had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes swooping between Hermione and glaring at the owl, daring it to damage the paintwork on the Impala.

“I don’t recognise the owl or the handwriting and there’s no seal to identify a house or Ministry department. I’m running diagnostic spells and checking to ensure there are no harmful hexes or substances on the letter before I open it.”

“You can do that?” He blinked in surprise.

“Yes, I can,” she replied, before pocketing her wand and opening the letter when the results were clear.

She frowned as she read the letter over.

_Hermione Granger,_

_I don’t know if you remember me but you said if I wanted to talk to you I could. I’ve started my first year at school and I love it. Some teachers are nice and others are really strict, classes are awesome, and I’ve made some friends._

_I know my mom misses me and she’s worried but I’m doing just fine. I’ve even started flying lessons and I love them. Quidditch is my favourite sport and I love my charms classes._

_I love the Wizarding World and school, but it’s hard. Some of the others say I don’t belong here. They call me names and make fun of me. What’s a Mudblood? That’s their favourite thing to call me. The teachers don’t do anything, they said I need to work it out with my peers before they get involved. What should I do?_

_I don’t even know if you’ll get this letter or if you’ll reply._

_Henry Binns._

Hermione’s hand clenched tightly with the letter still in her grip. The brothers both stood up straight at the look of clear anger on her face.

“What is it?” Dean asked with a frown.

Hermione’s eyes cut to his and she held out the letter for him to take. He quickly read it over before his eyes widened slightly and he passed it over to Sam to read.

“Binns, he’s that kid you performed that magical test on, isn’t he? The younger brother of one of the victims in the first cased we worked together?”

“Yes,” Hermione replied, her eyes narrowed hatefully at the letter, at the words it contained.

“What are you going to do?”

She took a deep breath and reigned in her anger. “We’re going to make a slight detour,” she said. They both raised their eyebrows at her and now that she had her own phone, she summoned it from her beaded bag and dialled the number for The American Ministry of Magic, demanding to be put through to the Minister.

“I’m doing well, thank you, Minister...Yes, I’m happy in married life...No, I’m not giving up any details, but nice try...I’m afraid it’s not a social call, no, I need a favour...I need an advanced port key arranged as soon as possible...Yes, destination Salem Academy. I have some matters that need to be taken care of, it seems some of the students are expressing the views of the old ways and using derogatory language, and it seems as though the professors can’t keep a handle on the situation...No, don’t inform them of my arrival...Fifteen minutes, that’s great, I’ll be right over to pick it up.”

She ended the call and slipped the phone into her pocket, looking up to see the brothers watching her in expectance.

“It seems we’re taking a little trip to the Salem Academy of Magic.”

“Intervening?” Dean asked knowingly.

“If the professors aren’t going to put a stop to bullying and blood prejudice then I will. I made a promise to Henry and I intend to keep it. He already has a bad impression of magic due to what happened to his brother. I won’t allow his education and school experiences to be tainted, too. Hell will freeze over before I allow that to happen. We should be there in no less than an hour.”

“We?” Sam asked.

“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to leave the two of you on your own, who knows what trouble you’d find yourselves in?” They scowled at her, but didn’t deny it; they both knew it was true. “The advanced port key allows for muggle travel and it should give you instant access through the wards surrounding Salem, despite your non-magical status. Minister Allister will have to pull a few strings to get one so quickly since they’re usually used in an emergency, and we’re still keeping your non-magical status under wraps. I’m going to head over to The Ministry and I’ll collect the port key. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

~000~000~000~

“Got it?” Sam asked, lifting his head from where it was resting against the headrest of the seat.

“Yes,” she nodded, approaching the car. “If we head over there now we should be there no more than an hour. I can keep my promise to Henry and then we can be on our way.”

“What about Baby?” Dean asked.

Hermione frowned and bit her lip in thought before pulling her wand. She gestured for the brothers to vacate the car and when they did, she shrunk the car down until it fit in her palm. They both stared in surprise as she slipped it into her pocket.

“There, it’s only temporary so we don’t have long.” Dean spluttered. “Relax, she’ll be fine. Now, brace yourselves, you’ve never port keyed before. The trick is to close your eyes and bend your knees ready for landing. It’ll feel strange, as though you’ve been swept up by a tornado and the chances are, since you’ve never done this before, you’ll either be sick or you’ll face plant the floor, more than likely both.”

Neither of them looked pleased with the idea as she busied herself by pulling out an old babies rattle.

“Now, on the count of three take hold of it, hold it tightly and don’t let go. One, two, three.”

~000~000~000~

Hermione stared down at the brothers in amusement and barely containing her laughter. Upon their landing, she had landed smoothly due to years of practice, the brothers, on the other hand, hadn’t been as graceful. Sam face planted the floor whereas Dean had rolled to a stop.

She crossed her arms over her chest and watched them as they both lay sprawled on their backs and staring up at the sky.

“I’m never doing that again,” Sam groaned.

“You are, it’s the only way off the grounds,” she replied.

Both brothers groaned and she sniggered.

“Up you get, I want to get this done quickly.”

They both groaned before slowly getting to their feet, knowing that if they didn’t she’d likely hex them. Sluggishly, they followed after her as she led the way down a narrow path shielded by a large group of trees, and before they knew it, they came to the school.

Hermione had only been to The Salem Academy once in her life and it was a few years after the war when the Headmaster had asked that she guest lecture the seventh years. Not wanting to miss the opportunity she’d agreed to it. Looking up at the large manor house, she could see it was beautiful and much more modern than the ancient Hogwarts castle, but nothing would ever compare to the place that was once her home.

“Welcome to The Salem Academy.”

“It’s not as big as I was expecting,” Sam commented.

“It wouldn’t be, there’s a few magical schools based in the US, Salem’s only one of them. Admittance depends on location and family history. If there are any relatives that have previously attended a school, the witch or wizard will be accepted. It’s all about legacy,” she explained as she led the way forward.

They came to the entrance doors and they magically opened for her, and as they stepped in, a robed figure approached them after having sensed their arrival on the grounds.

“Miss. Granger, I was not expecting a visit.”

“It’s Mrs. Winchester,” Hermione corrected. “And that’s because I did not wish to inform you I was coming,” she replied, seeing the way the Headmaster cringed at her acerbic tone.

The headmaster hadn’t changed much since she last saw him. He still had short white hair and a thick moustache, his green eyes were swallowed up by wrinkles and large, thick glasses were perched on the tip of his large, hooked nose.

“I have been informed by one of your first-year pupils, who happens to be a good friend of mine, that they are being bullied due to their status as a Muggleborn. They are using derogatory names, including this one,” she lifted her left sleeve to show her scar and the headmaster flinched. “This student has told their professors and was told that they need to sort it out for themselves.”

The headmaster paled as she glared furiously, whilst Sam did his best to control his amusement and Dean slipped his hands into his pockets with a proud smirk on his face.

“I do not believe a member of staff would say such a thing,” the headmaster replied.

“So you’re calling my friend a liar?”

“Good heavens, no, of course not,” he said, a bead of sweat beginning to form on his brow and he pulled a handkerchief from his robe pocket to pat his forehead down. “I’m merely saying things may have been misunderstood. We’ll get right to the bottom of this.”

“Yes, we will,” she agreed. “Lead the way, Headmaster.”

~000~000~000~

“We’re stopping for the night,” Dean muttered, coming up beside her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

She tilted her head slightly. “I thought we were travelling through the night so we could get there without having to stop.”

“Change of plans.”

“Why?”

He gave her a heated look. “Fair enough,” she said in understanding.

“It’s either that or we kick Sammy out of the car for a few hours.”

“I can’t be done with the whining,” she rolled her eyes.

“You might want to take one of those potions you told me about,” he said smugly.

She smirked at him. “Me? I’m the one that wears you out, remember? Old age is creeping up on you, Winchester.” He pinched her in the side and she squealed before laughing. “You walked right into that one; you can’t blame me for taking the opportunity you presented me.”

“Just you wait,” he muttered.

He saw her mouth twitch and her eyes light up. “Just _you_ wait,” she repeated. “I know you’re favourite colour’s brown but I’ve got something special planned for you, Mr. Winchester, and I guarantee that after tonight, your new favourite colour will be much more...S _ensual_.”

He took a deep breath and his arm tightened around her for a moment. She laughed loudly before slipping away from him and moving to catch up with Sam, who was walking a little ahead of them.

“Teasing Witch,” he muttered under his breath.

~000~000~000~

Hermione stood at the front of the hall on the raised platform with Dean and Sam stood beside her. She looked out, seeing the many faces of students all staring at her in various forms of shock, admiration and appreciation, and the professors weren’t much better as they stood off to the side. The hall was quiet, waiting for her to speak and her continued silence was making the professor’s nervous.

Hermione stepped forward slightly.

“For those of you that do not know who I am, I am Hermione Winchester. The man to my left is my husband, Dean, and the man to my right is my brother-in-law, Sam. We have very busy lives and I find it unfortunate that I was forced to come here today and intervene in a matter, when I could be doing my job in catching criminals and helping those less fortunate.”

There was not a sound to be heard in the hall.

“Earlier this afternoon, I received an owl from a very good friend of mine, stating that he was being bullied and called derogatory names simply for being a Muggleborn. Now, as a Muggleborn myself, I know how hurtful these names can be and I know the damage bullying does to a person. I did not fight in a war so that blood prejudice could continue and others are made to feel unwelcome or treated anything less than they deserve. Blood prejudice has no place in this world, and it certainly has no place in a school. A school is for learning, it’s for honing your magical abilities, it’s for building experiences and friendships that will remain with you for the rest of your life. You need to enjoy it whilst you can; before you know it you’ll be graduating and thrust into the world of adulthood, employment, marriage and children.”

“Everyone has the right to their own opinions and views but if they are harmful to others I suggest you keep them to yourself. You should never take on the opinions of others, you should never believe what you are told. You should always do your own research and use reliable sources as this will help you to form your own opinions without the influences of others. I am so very disappointed in these students that are bullying others and using such damaging and hurtful language. Blood has nothing to do with magic. Just because you are Pureblood, does not mean you are more magically powerful or gifted. It does not mean you are smarter, it does not mean you are a better flyer. And it certainly does not make you better than anyone else.”

“Just because you are Muggleborn does not make you weak, it does not make you useless and it does not mean you don’t belong in this world. You have magic just like everyone else and you are capable of the same things. You are all magical practitioners and you were all gifted with the abilities of magic. Do not disrespect the powers that be by misusing your gift and mistreating others. You must be kind to one another, you must help one another and you must stop bullying one another. There is no winner.”

She looked out, seeing everyone’s eyes and attention glued to her.

“I am not going to name names, but I’m sure you know who you are by now. There is no honour in hurting others. I do not want to be contacted again regarding this very serious matter. Laws are coming into effect regarding the penalties of using such derogatory language and no matter your age, you and your families will be penalised. That is all I have to say. The next time I visit, I hope it is to give a lecture on the MLE Department and your lessons of DADA and CoMC.”

She turned to her right slightly, her eyes narrowed on the row of professors. “Now that I have spoken with the students, I wish to speak with the professors regarding a very important matter.”

~000~000~000~

“You can be scary when you want to be,” Sam commented as they left the headmaster’s office, leaving behind a traumatised group of professors.

“I held back,” she defended.

“I know you did, and you were still terrifying. I was half expecting for fire to burst from you.”

“Very funny,” she rolled her eyes, and they rounded the corner as they made their way to the exit.

Hermione stumbled back when someone ran into her and Dean stepped closer, gripping onto her to stop her from falling over. Hermione shook her head and looked down at the culprit, surprised to see Henry Binns.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly and tugging on his uniform robes. “I just wanted to say thank you. I didn’t think you’d even read my letter.”

Hermione smiled down at him. “Of course I did, Henry, I told you I would, and I found it much quicker to come and see you in person rather than writing a reply. I do hope that your school experience is much better from now on.”

He nodded. “They found me, the bullies. I thought they were going to hex me.”

“And?” She asked. She could not hex children. She could not hex children, she reminded herself, whilst feeling Dean taking her hand in his.

“They said sorry and offered to help me with my history of magic homework.”

Hermione smiled slightly. “That’s wonderful, but I’d still be cautious around them until you’re sure you can trust they mean you no harm.”

He nodded. “Thank you for coming, Jack would’ve been so jealous.”

Hermione smiled at him. “Maybe, but I think he’d be more focused on being proud of you. You have so much potential and so much to learn, you could be anything you want to be when you get older. You just have to keep working hard. The Wizarding World is a scary place, but it’s also wonderful. You’re going to face some people that will treat as those bullies did, but if you keep working hard and prove them wrong, you’ll rise to the top, just as I did.”

~000~000~000~

“I thought we were driving through the night,” Sam spoke confused, seeing Dean pulling into the parking lot of a motel.

“Change of plans,” Dean replied.

“Why?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. He caught the way Hermione and Dean looked at each other. “For God’s Sake, give me a break,” he grumbled.

“We could always kick you out of the car,” Hermione replied.

Sam looked to be turning a little green. “Stopping for the night’s a great idea, I’ll get the rooms.” He wasted no time in leaving the Impala and heading to the reception desk.

 _‘Please have two rooms, please have two rooms,’_ he begged to no one in particular.

He made his way back to the Impala with only one key in his hand. It looked as though he was going to be sleeping in the car.


	87. Chapter 87

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

**Two months later...**

“I’m hun...”

“Hungry, we know,” both Dean and Sam interrupted Hermione and she scowled at them.

“We’re about an hour out from Muncie, do you think you can wait?” Hermione looked at him as though he were stupid. Sam snorted and Dean shook his head, his mouth twitching at the corners. “I thought not, we’re just about to pass through a town, I suppose we could stop for an hour to get you fed.”

“She’s not as bitchy when she’s full,” Sam spoke. Hermione turned in her seat to slap at his knee. He winced and Dean sniggered.

“You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?” He said amused.

“For that comment, I’m going to order more than I usually would and you’re paying for it,” Hermione spoke.

Sam scoffed. “As if you don’t already order _everything_ on the menu.”

“Sammy, you’re pushing your luck. I can’t stop her from hexing you, not that I would, the last time made my week.”

“You’re just frightened of her,” he commented.

“That too,” Dean admitted, knowing there was no point in denying the fact his wife was scary as hell when she was angry. She was even more frightening when she was hungry or tired. They made sure that she ate regular meals with snacks in-between for their happiness and safety.

“I am sat right here, you know?” Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“We know, you’ve been complaining of being hungry for the last two hours,” Sam said.

Hermione turned around in her seat once more, this time leaning over the seat to smack him upside the head. Sam caught her hand before she could and she narrowed her eyes at him as he stared smugly.

“Don’t make me come back there,” she warned.

“I’d like to see you try,” he scoffed.

Before Sam could blink and much to Dean’s amusement, Hermione had climbed over her seat and into the back where she and Sam proceeded to have a scuffle whilst arguing and insulting each other.

Dean snorted and shook his head, his eyes darting between watching the road and the rearview mirror.

“You’re going to get hurt, Sammy,” Dean commented, not bothering to even attempt to break up the two squabbling Hunters.

“I doubt it...Ow! That hurt!” Sam whined.

Dean briefly looked behind him to see Sam scowling at a smug-looking Hermione, while he rubbed at his chest, just where his nipple was. Dean burst out laughing, realising what Hermione had done.

“That’s what you get for being a prat,” she replied, before climbing back over the seat and sitting next to Dean.

“Feeling better?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“No, I’m still hungry. I haven’t eaten in a few hours.”

“Heaven forbid that you starve to death,” Sam rolled his eyes.

Hermione spun around and narrowed her eyes. “Careful of you’ll be getting another nipple twister,” she warned.

Sam automatically brought both hands up to cover his chest, causing a rumble of laughter to erupt from Dean. He shook his head before his eyes landed on the sign, welcoming them to the town of Cicero. Dean frowned slightly, he was sure he’d been there before. Was there something he was missing? Something he couldn’t remember?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts when the sounds of Hermione and Sam bickering brought him back to the present. It wasn’t long when they came to a diner though due to the parking lot being small and there being no spaces available, they were forced to park a little ways away from it and walk down to it.

Dean had Hermione beside him with his arm draped over her shoulder and her arm wrapped around his back, whilst Sam walked beside her and they continued to bicker back and forth. 

“You’re just jealous my hair’s prettier than yours,” Sam said, giving his hair a dramatic flick and Dean snorted.

“Everyone has hair better than mine; it’s practically a bird’s nest on top of my head.”

“I like it,” Dean shrugged, reaching up to tug at a curl, but his comment went unnoticed.

“Well, you’re jealous I’m bigger than you,” Sam said.

“Everyone’s bigger than me, I’m the smallest out of everyone in the family, disregarding Molly and the children, and soon they’ll be bigger than me, too,” she rolled her eyes.

“I like your size,” Dean shrugged, but again his comment went unnoticed.

“I’m prettier than you,” Sam spoke.

Hermione snorted but before she could speak, Dean spoke first. “No you’re not, she outstrips you by miles, stop trying to wind her up; it’ll only end in tears.”

Hermione stuck her tongue out at Sam and he smacked her upside the head in response, so she shoved him and he walked into a lamp post.

Hermione yelped when Sam pinched her in the side and Dean snorted when Sam took off in a run and Hermione chased after him. Dean shook his head and chuckled.

When did _he_ become the adult?

He slowly made his way down the path, his eyes dating between the houses that he passed and Sam and Hermione continuing to try and injure each other, when he was stopped by a voice calling his name.

“Oh My God, Dean? Dean Winchester?”

Dean stopped in his steps and turned to his left, seeing a pretty brunette making her way down the drive towards him. He frowned, he was sure he’d seen her before and out of habit, his hand moved to his pocket where he had his guns hidden.

His eyes flickered back up to the house, seeing a blonde stood in the doorway of the house with a raised eyebrow.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” the brunette said. Dean’s frown deepened and she noticed and chuckled. “You don’t remember me, do you?” She said, though she didn’t sound offended, more amused and she stopped not far in front of him.

Before he could stop himself he shook his head.

“It’s been a few years since we saw each other,” she spoke. “I’m Lisa.”

Dean furrowed his brow in thought and his eyes swept her face before the light bulb went off. Cicero, Indiana, that’s why the town sounded familiar to him. He’d been there before and had a one night stand. His eyes scanned his surroundings nervously, not seeing Sam or Hermione. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not.

“Oh, Lisa, I remember, how you doing?” He asked, his hand dropping away from his pocket.

She smiled at him. “I’m doing well, thanks, you?”

“I’m good,” he replied.

“Lisa, aren’t you going to introduce us?” The blonde from the house made her way down to them.

Dean felt like shooting her. He’d been looking for a way out of the conversation and away from Lisa as soon as possible, but the blonde went and screwed that up.

“This is Dean,” Lisa said.

“Oh, Dean?” The blonde smirked. “As in ‘the best night of my life, Dean?’”

Dean shuffled on his feet. God! He hoped Hermione hadn’t heard that.

No such luck.

“Dean? What’s going on?”

He turned his head and saw Hermione approaching with a frown on her face, her eyes sweeping over the two women, one of them a previous one night stand. Why did God hate him?

“Nothing, Sweetheart,” he spoke with a smile, wrapping his arm around her shoulders when she was close enough and pulling her into his side, hoping to quell the jealousy the bond created. “I just bumped into someone I knew a few years ago.”

“When you say you _knew_...” She said knowingly.

He sighed, there was no point in denying it; it would only make the situation worse. “Yeah, one night stand, but it was years ago, nothing for you to worry about.”

“Are you sure about that, ‘best night of my life, Dean?’” She said with a slight glare.

He knew it wasn’t her fault; the bond was pushing those emotions onto her so he didn’t take it personally.

“I’m not that person anymore, thanks to you I’m a better man,” he muttered into her ear, placing a kiss to her temple.

He caught the disbelieving stare Lisa had trained on him and he sighed again.

“Well, this is awkward,” he heard the amused voice of his brother from behind him and Dean glared when he came up beside him.

“You can say that again,” Dean said. “Lisa, this is my brother, Sam, and my wife, Hermione.”

Lisa spluttered in surprise. “Wife?”

“Why so surprised? Were you hoping to go another round with him?” Hermione asked lightly. Dean pinched her side in warning. “What?” She asked innocently. “It’s merely an observation, I’m a woman, I know what one looks like when they’re thinking of getting you into bed, and what she wants is written as clear as day across her face.”

Lisa looked to be so surprised she couldn’t form a response, whether it was at Hermione’s words or accent it was anyone’s guess.

Dean turned his eyes to Lisa, seeing the way her cheeks had darkened and he raised an eyebrow. Had Hermione’s words had some truth to them? Had Lisa been planning to get him to fall back into bed with her? Or was she just embarrassed and shocked?

“It doesn’t matter what her intentions had been, it would never happen again. I’d never risk losing you or jeopardising our marriage,” Dean spoke.

She shrugged her shoulders and moved her arm so that it wrapped around his waist and she leaned against him.

“This has got to be one of the most awkward meetings ever,” Sam spoke.

Hermione tore her narrowed gaze away from Lisa and to Sam. “You can say that again, Sammy.”

“It was just a coincidence we bumped into each other, to be honest, I didn’t even remember her until she told me her name,” he spoke quietly so only Hermione would hear, though Sam heard him, too, and he rolled his eyes in response.

“You’re married?” Lisa asked slowly, after finally pulling herself together.

“I am,” Dean replied.

Lisa frowned. “I didn’t take you for the marriage type.”

“You obviously don’t know him like I do,” Hermione said.

Lisa blinked. “How long have you been married?”

“Over a year,” Dean said, his mouth twitching into a smile and he looked down at Hermione. “And it’s been the best year of my life,” he said, leaning down to place a kiss to Hermione’s forehead and she’s leaned further into him. “I don’t know what I did to deserve her, but I’m grateful she’s mine.”

Lisa blinked again, her eyes darting between Hermione and Dean, whilst Sam stuck his hands in his pockets and did his best to control his amusement with the situation.

They caught sight of movement from the corner of their eyes and they all turned their heads to see a young boy riding a bike, with earphones held in place and he appeared to be singing along to whichever song was playing.

“Ben,” the brunette called and the young boy came to a stop not far from them before he removed the earphones, climbed off his bike and pushed it the rest of the way.

“What, Mom? I haven’t done anything, I swear,” he replied.

“I don’t believe that for a second. Go inside and wash up, lunch should be done in fifteen minutes,” she replied.

Ben stopped at the group, eyeing the three Hunters curiously, whilst they returned the gesture. Upon closer inspection, the young boy can’t have been older than ten, he had light brown hair and green eyes similar to Dean’s and when Hermione and Dean saw this, both their eyes widened and their eyes shot up to Lisa.

“Alright,” Ben shrugged, before turning and heading to the house.

“You have a son?” Dean said slowly. Lisa nodded. “How old is he?”

“Eight, coming up nine.”

Dean made a noise of surprise; that time frame fit around the time he met Lisa. He felt Hermione’s hand drop from his waist. He looked down at her, seeing the way her face had contorted in pain and shock and he caught the way her hand moved up to cradle her child-free stomach. She looked horrified.

She stumbled back before turning her wide eyes to him and before he could say anything, she turned and ran off down the path. Dean made to go after her but Sam put his hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

“Before you destroy my brother’s marriage, I think you better give us some answers and you do so quickly,” Sam spoke with his eyes narrowed slightly and a no-nonsense tone to his voice. “Is he Dean’s son?”

Lisa blinked. “No.”

“Are you sure? You can’t deny he looks like him and I’m guessing the time frame fits, judging by the look on my brother’s face.”

“No, he’s not the father, I swear. I met Ben’s father almost a year after I did Dean. We separated when Ben was a baby.”

Dean let out a huge sigh of relief, before turning and quickly making his way down the path to where he could see Hermione pacing back and forth, tugging on her hair and muttering to herself.

He stepped in front of her and wrapped his arms around her tightly when she walked into him. He refused to let go when she tried to pull away from him, and before she could verbally destroy him, or worse, hex him, he spoke.

“He’s not mine,” he said. “I promise, she just confirmed it. She met the kid’s father almost a year after she did me.”

Hermione instantly relaxed into him and her head fell forward until it pressed against his chest.

“I know, Sweetheart, trust me, you weren’t the only one surprised by her appearance.”

“How many are there, Dean? I need to know, you know everything about my past relationships and now I realise that I don’t know anything about yours. What if we bump into another of you one night stands?” She looked up at him, barely containing the tears that were threatening to fall.

He sighed, knowing she was right. “In all honesty, I don’t know how many there were and I’m not going to lie to you about that. But what I will say is that I can’t remember most of their names. Before meeting you I drank a lot and I used sex as a way to help me deal with the darkness in my life. After a while, the drink and the sex stopped working and I was just numb. Numb to everything. And then you came along, my Angel. I don’t drink because I don’t have to, and I don’t sleep around because I don’t want to. You are the only one that I want. You are the only one that I need. You are my present and my future. You’ve made me a better man, a better friend, brother and son, and a better Hunter. You’ve made me a husband, a partner and companion for life and soon, I’ll be a father, too. All of this I believed to be impossible until I met you.”

“How do you know you don’t have any children from any of your one night stands?”

“I was always very careful, I made sure we were both using protection even when I was too drunk to walk. I never wanted kids and I never wanted a relationship, at least until I met you. I could never even imagine being with anyone else but you and I could never imagine anyone but you being pregnant with my babies. I am committed to you and our future family one hundred and ten percent. I would do anything and give anything to make you happy. I can’t guarantee that we won’t run into another woman I may have slept with in the past, but what I can guarantee is that you’ll only ever be the one that I want. You’ll only ever be the one that I love. And you’ll only ever be the one that matters. No one in my past holds a candle to you and as far as I’m concerned, you’re the only one that counts. I love pie.”

She sighed. “I love pie, too,” she replied.

He smiled down at her and pushed her hair out of her face, before leaning down to kiss her. She bit her lip and he raised an eyebrow.

“It’s been five days,” she said.

He frowned before understanding came to him. “You’re most fertile,” he said with a mischievous grin. “Well, we’re definitely getting our own room when we get to Muncie, and I hope you’re well-rested because neither of us is going to be getting any sleep, I’m doubling my efforts into putting a baby in you. And don’t forget to cast a Silencing Charm, we don’t want to be getting kicked off the premises for all the noise you’re going to be making.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“I am,” he agreed, “But you love me anyway.”

“I suppose I do, all the torture I’ve faced over the years must’ve done more damage to my brain than previously realised.”

“Cheeky Witch,” he muttered, bringing his mouth close to hers.

“You like it and you know you do.”

He chuckled before kissing her. They pulled back when they heard footsteps approaching.

“Everything alright?” Sam asked them.

“Perfect,” Hermione and Dean replied together and Sam rolled his eyes, as he always did when they spoke in sync.

“I’ll be right back,” he said to Hermione.

She nodded and he kissed her once more before walking back over to Lisa, seeing that the blonde had disappeared.

“Well, I would say it was nice seeing you, but to be honest, it was awkward as hell,” Dean said. “I better be going, I promised my wife lunch and I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t get her fed soon. I hope you and your kid have a good life.”

“Yeah, you too,” she replied, clearly sounding disappointed that it was clear they would likely never see each other again or that he would be interested in going to bed with her. “She’s pretty.”

“She’s beautiful,” Dean corrected. “And she’s strong, brave, and witty as hell, and I’ve never met anyone as smart as her. She’s borderline Stephen Hawking’s genius.”

“You love her, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t have married her if I didn’t know she was the one for me.”

“I never thought I’d see Dean Winchester married,” she commented.

“Well now you have, and if we do happen to run into each other again, you’ll see me as a father, too.” Lisa spluttered. “That’s right, my wife and I are trying for a baby and I can’t wait until the day she tells me she’s pregnant. Anyway, I better go, bye,” Dean turned and walked off, leaving behind the stuttering brunette and rushing off to catch up with his wife and brother.


	88. Chapter 88

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

**Two weeks later...**

“Have you seen, Hermione?” Dean asked, walking into their motel room after returning from picking up dinner.

“She left not long after you, she said she had a hunch regarding the case and wanted to do a little research at the local library.”

Dean frowned. “And you didn’t go with her?”

“No, why would I? She’s a big girl and she can take care of herself, besides, she said she wanted some time for herself. I don’t blame her, as much as we’re family, sometimes you just need a break and some time alone.”

“If anything happens to her...”

Sam rolled his eyes. “She’s fine; she’s a war veteran, powerful half-witch, half-Angel. She can more than take care of herself.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at him before placing the food on the table and heading into the bathroom. When he returned he sat at the table and ate his food in silence, his worry for Hermione clear, though Sam thought he was being a little ridiculous.

“She’s fine,” he sighed.

“She better be, or you’re getting your ass kicked,” Dean glared.

Sam shook his head and went back to reading his book, another from Hermione’s library.

The sound of a phone ringing broke the silence in the room and Dean pulled it out of his pocket, seeing Hermione’s name as the caller ID he wasted no time in answering.

“Everything alright, Glinda? Sam said you wanted to do some research,” he spoke, trying to hide the worry in his voice.

“Yeah, about that...”

“Why are you whispering?” He frowned, and his hearing picked up on the fact that her breathing seemed heavy, as if she’d been running.

“Don’t get mad.”

“Hermione, what have you done?”

“I may need some backup. We’re dealing with a vengeful spirit, it took some digging but I know where the body’s buried. I need one of you to get there and deal with that, whilst I try to keep the spirit distracted. It’s already locked onto its next victim and I accidentally ran into it, now it’s hell-bent on killing me.”

“Fucking hell, where are you?” He asked quickly, standing up from the table and picking up his car keys, whilst Sam jumped up from the bed and moved to stand beside Dean when he heard Dean’s outburst.

“You remember that office building we passed on the way to the motel? I’m currently in the underground parking structure. I’ll have to wipe the security cameras afterwards since I broke in, but that’s a story for another time. Shit...”

Dean heard a shriek before the clang of the phone falling to the floor.

“Glinda? Glinda? Hermione? What’s going on!” He demanded, panic beginning to set in.

In the background, he could hear bangs as though things were being thrown across a room and slamming into a wall. He held his breath when he heard the telltale sound of gunshots, and then moments later, Hermione’s voice came over the phone.

“I’m fine,” she breathed heavily. “I’ve bought myself some time but not a lot of it. The body’s buried beneath the oak tree near the bridge that marks the entrance to the town, ideally, I could use one of you here with me, but it’ll be easier and quicker for you both to go to the body and deal with it. Fuck! I better go, the crazy bitch is back...”

“Hermione! Hermione!”

Dean growled and snapped his phone shut before stuffing it into his pocket.

“Let’s go, Hermione’s found the spirit responsible,” Dean muttered, before storming out of the motel room and to the Impala.

~000~000~000~

Dean and Sam stood at the oak tree, watching as the flames devoured the body in the grave beneath them.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Sam spoke.

Dean glared at him before they both jumped in surprise when they heard a ‘crack.’ They both turned their heads to see Hermione approaching them and brushing down her clothing as she did so.

Dean had his arms around her, hugging her tightly before pushing her back and checking her over for injuries before she’d even had the chance to speak.

“I’m fine,” she shrugged.

Dean glared at her, spying the blood trickling from a cut on her forehead, scrapes on her palms and the dirt and dust that covered her clothing.

“I’m fine, I’ve had worse injuries. I must admit, she was a lot tougher than I thought she’d be.”

“What were you even doing there? You could’ve been killed,” he demanded.

“To be fair, it’s not like I went looking for trouble,” she replied calmly. “I caught a lucky break and discovered the next possible victim and I decided to check it out before heading back to the motel. It just so happens I wasn’t the only one there. I got the victim out after wiping his memories of me and the spirit didn’t appreciate that, so she decided I would take the guy’s place. Of course, she wasn’t expecting my wanting to fight for my life.”

“Don’t ever do that again,” he told her.

She rolled her eyes. “I think you’re forgetting who I am. I’ve grown up with ghosts and spirits, I know them very well and it’s not my first case involving a ghost, with or without you. Though saying that, we’ve been together coming up a year and a half, I think I can handle myself.”

“She’s right,” Sam shrugged. “I told you not to worry.”

“Shut it, Sammy.”

~000~000~000~

**Two weeks later...**

“What are we dealing with?” Hermione asked, walking into Sam’s motel room with a paper bag containing their dinner, and another filled with snacks for later.

“Your favourite,” Sam replied amused.

Hermione groaned loudly and placed the bags in the centre of the table he and Dean were occupying before Hermione moved over to Sam’s bed and flopped down onto it dramatically.

“Please don’t say what I think it is,” she begged.

“You know I’m going to,” Sam shrugged. “Lamia,”

Hermione made a noise of frustration and put her hands over her face.

“I swear to every deity there is, if she so much as looks at Dean, I’m killing her.”

“We were going to anyway,” Dean replied amused, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back into his chair.

“I have plenty of spells up my sleeve that can easily kill someone should they be used for that purpose, believe it or not, a lot of innocent spells can be used to do wrong.”

“Such as?” Sam asked intrigued.

“Well,” she said, removing her hands from over her face and pushing herself up onto her elbows. “ _Aquamenti_ , it’s a water conjuring spell, but with a little tweaking of the wand movements, it can be used to fill a person’s lungs with water, or a large body of water can be conjured for you to drown them in. _Diffindo_ , it’s a Severing Charm mainly used in healing but it can be used to cut a person’s throat if there’s enough force behind the spell. There’s a charm that is used in healing in which the bones are broken in order for them to be fixed or re-grown, yet it can be used to torture someone by breaking every bone in their body. Magic is both frightening and wonderful, as I’ve come to learn over the years.” They both blinked at her in surprise.

She sighed before pushing herself up and off the bed, moving over to the table and retrieving the food she had ordered for herself.

“I suppose we better eat dinner and then head out, you have a possible location?”

Sam nodded. “She seems to be heading south and choosing her victims every three days. That would make tonight the night she’s going after someone else, and if my assumptions are correct, her next stop will be a bar about three miles from here.”

“Well, at least I don’t have to dress up this time, my feet are still hurting from the heels I wore last time, and I’m sure that dress was invented as a torture device; I could barely breathe let alone move,” she said and they snorted at her.

“Well, if you reduced the amount of food you eat the dress wouldn’t have been a tight fit.”

Dean stared at his brother for his stupidity, before a rumble of laughter tore from him when Hermione’s hex hit Sam before he could blink.

~000~000~000~

“I’ve got eyes on her,” Hermione mumbled, sitting in a booth with Dean opposite her, whilst Sam was sat on a stool at the bar, talking with a redhead. Dean turned his head slightly, before turning back to her.

“The redhead?”

“No,” she shook her head before taking a sip from her beer. “The brunette, she’s sat three stools down from Sam. She’s choosing her next victim.”

Hermione sat up taller and raised an eyebrow when she saw the brunette latch her attention onto Dean. They locked gazes before Hermione brushed her hair back from her face, making sure that her wedding ring would easily be seen in the lights of the bar, and she sent a look of warning.

The brunette blinked before thankfully deciding it wasn’t worth making Dean her next victim, and she turned her eyes back to scanning the male occupants of the bar.

“Marked your territory?” Dean asked amused.

“Yes, thanks,” she replied, taking another sip of her beer.

They waited twenty minutes before the brunette moved closer to Sam, and after ten minutes of talking, both of them left the bar together and they walked past their booth. Hermione and Dean made sure to be in conversation to make it look as though they weren’t paying attention. It would be a lot more difficult if the lamia knew the three of them were together and that they were hunting her.

Hermione and Dean waited until Sam and the lamia disappeared out the door before they both stood up and followed them out.

~000~000~000~

“You boys alright?” Hermione panted, leaning against the wall with her wand in hand and her hands resting against her knees as she bent over slightly.

“Fine,” Dean replied, his breathing heavy as he leaned against a bin.

“I’m good,” Sam groaned, pushing himself up off the floor and sitting with his back leaning against the wall.

“Well, that was unexpected,” she replied, standing up straight and pocketing her wand.

They both snorted at her. None of them had been expecting there to be a second lamia waiting in the alleyway behind the bar, which had made things a little more complicated than they'd planned on it being. But despite there being two lamias, there had still been three of them. They had experience and Hermione’s magic on their side, and after a struggle they had gotten the upper hand and both lamias were a pile of ash.

“I need a drink,” Hermione sighed.

“You and me both,” Sam said, groaning as Dean helped him to stand up and he rolled his shoulders.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Hermione asked. “You hit that wall pretty hard.”

“I’m fine at the minute, a little sore but the alcohol I’m planning to drink will dull that. In the morning I’ll likely feel it,” Sam replied.

Hermione and Dean snorted. “I’ll have a Hangover Potion and Bruise Removal Paste on standby and ready for you,” she said amused.

“Come on then, let’s get you your drink, I think you’ve earned it,” Dean said, throwing his arm around her shoulders and leading her down the alleyway. “You coming, Sammy?”

“I’ll catch up,” he said, rubbing at his aching shoulder.

“We’ll order for you,” Hermione called over her shoulder before she and Dean rounded the corner and exited the alleyway.

She and Dean made their way to the bar, ordered their drinks before returning to their booth, and Sam appeared moments after them.

“Your shoulder bothering you?” Hermione asked, seeing the way he winced and rubbed at it.

“I just knocked it,” Sam said.

“Do you want me to take a look at it?” She frowned slightly.

He shook his head. “I’m sure it’ll be fine in the morning, if not you can work your magic then.”

“Alright,” she shrugged, sliding the beer bottle across the table and he caught it.

She took a swig from her own bottle and her eyes scanned the crowd in the bar, it slowly increasing as the night grew later. Her eyes landed on the only empty pool table in the room and Dean seemed to notice.

“You wanna play?” He asked her.

Her eyes moved over to him and she frowned slightly. “I don’t know how to.”

“What?” Both brothers said surprised, looking at her dumbly.

“I don’t know how to,” she repeated.

“How is that even possible?” Sam asked.

She shrugged. “I spent my childhood at a magical school and fighting a war, there’s no such thing as pool or billiards in the Wizarding World. After graduating I went straight into employment and I spent most of my time in the Wizarding World. When my department was created, I was always too busy to learn to play, and I had no one to teach me, so I never bothered. I mean, I’ve seen you both play plenty of times to understand some of the rules, but not to play.”

They both blinked, unable to form a response.

“I still don’t understand how we’ve been together a year and a half, and we’ve never taught you to play pool,” Sam said.

“Well, let’s rectify that,” Dean spoke, taking a swig of his beer, before standing up and holding out his hand, taking Hermione’s hand in his and pulling her up from her seat. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be the best pool hustler there is. We could make a fortune.”

Hermione snorted. “We’re already wealthy.”

“You’re wealthy.”

“ _We’re_ wealthy,” she corrected. “What’s mine is yours.”

“Whatever,” he said, pulling her away from their booth and over to the pool table, leaving an amused Sam behind as he swigged at his beer.

Dean wasted no time in setting up the pool balls before handing her a pool cue, and he chuckled when she seemed surprised by how heavy it was.

“You get used to it. So, I’ll break and we’ll start from there.”

“Alright,” she shrugged, stepping back and allowing Dean the space he needed.

She watched as two balls were sunk into the pockets and she blinked in surprise.

“Nope, I’m not doing this with you,” she said, placing the pool cue against the wall and turning to walk back to the booth.

Dean chuckled and he reached out and caught her hand in his, turning her around and pulling her into him and he curled his arm around her back.

“We both know there’s nothing you can’t do when you put your mind to it. You’ll be a pro before you know it and wiping the floor with Sammy.”

“That’s never going to happen,” she scoffed.

“It would, he’s scared of you so he’d let you win.” She huffed and slapped at his chest as he laughed at her. “I’m only kidding, now, let’s get you playing your first ever game of pool.”

He leaned down and placed a quick kiss to her lips, before pulling back. He handed her his pool cue and pulled her over to the pool table.

“Right, it’s really simple, but before I help you, I want to see if you can do it by yourself. All rules are out, for the time being, so, pick a ball and pocket and off you go.”

Hermione sighed before tightening her grip on the pool cue and fixing her eyes on the pool table, her eyes scanning the scattered balls and deciding which would be easier to hit into a pocket.

She picked one and moved around the table before lifting the cue and mimicking Dean’s previous actions and bending slightly at the waist. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and then pulled back the cue and hit the white ball.

She heard the clink of balls scattering around the table and when she opened her eyes, it was to see one of the balls falling into a pocket; she was happily surprised until the white ball followed it and she frowned and stood up.

“Not bad, Sweetheart,” Dean praised, coming up beside her and throwing his arm around her shoulders. “Your aims quite good but I knew it would be, given what you can do with your wand, knives and a gun. The problem is that you’re not sure how much force to use when hitting the ball. You used too much this time around, which is why you potted the white ball. It takes practice, but you’ll pick it up rather quickly. Let’s try again.”

He retrieved the white ball and placed it back on the table before moving back over to Hermione and standing behind her.

“Right, pick your target.”

Hermione grumbled before her eyes scanned the pool table and once she’d made her decision, she looked behind her.

“Aren’t you going to move?”

“Why would I do that?” He asked innocently.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Now I know why you wanted to teach me how to do this,” she said.

Dean grinned at her as he motioned for her to get a move on with it, not bothering to deny it.

“Oh, honestly,” she huffed.

She nudged him with her elbow and he took a step back. She bent at the waist slightly, more than aware of Dean being behind her as he stepped closer to her, her bum pressed against him. She felt one of his hands curl around her stomach and the other moved to rest over her hand on the pool cue.

“You don’t need to put so much force behind it, if you do you’re more likely to miss or send it off its course. Just relax and let go,” he breathed against her ear, and her breath hitched.

“You’re not helping,” she muttered. She didn’t imagine his smirk against her skin as he pressed a kiss to her neck. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” he said amused. “You’re enjoying yourself, don’t deny it.”

“Apparently not as much as you,” she replied, feeling the way the hand on her stomach began to wander.

She felt him shrug against her. “I’m always happy to bend you over a table.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s Sake,” she huffed, pushing him away from her and standing up, depositing the pool cue on the table and storming off, hearing him laughing loudly.

“What’s he done now?” Sam asked as she moodily sank down into her seat at their booth. She picked up her beer bottle and downed the rest of it before crossing her arms.

“Your brother’s a pain in the arse,” she replied.

“I’ve known that for years,” Sam snorted, “But what’s he done for you to come to this realisation?”

“You don’t want to know.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve discovered his true reasoning for wishing to teach me how to play pool.”

His eyebrow remained raised until Dean sat himself down beside him and he saw the look he had trained on Hermione, who was doing a good job at ignoring his stare.

“Oh, give me a fucking break,” Sam groaned.

“Stop complaining, you have your own room,” Dean said.

“This time I do, I didn’t three days ago.”

“It’s not my fault my wife’s irresistible,” Dean shrugged.

“She was wearing sweat pants,” Sam replied.

“And I couldn’t wait to take them off her.”

Sam grimaced and his head flopped back against the backrest of the booth.

“God, why do you hate me!”


	89. Chapter 89

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 9

**One month later...**

“Not pregnant.”

Dean felt as though he’d been stabbed in the heart with a serrated knife. He looked at his beautiful wife, sat on the toilet seat in the bathroom of their motel room. Her wand lay fallen on the floor after she had dropped it at seeing the dull glow of the results of the Pregnancy Charm. Her hands were covering her face and her shoulders were shaking as she silently cried.

Dean pushed his own sadness and disappointment aside and moved over to his wife. He knelt down in front of her and pulled her hands away from her face. She looked at him and his own sadness and disappointment crashed into him at seeing the tears rolling down her face.

He pushed back his own tears, the back of his throat burning with the effort to do so, and he stood up, pulling Hermione up and out of the bathroom. He led her over to the bed and climbed on with her. She laid down on her side facing away from Dean and he laid down behind her, wrapping himself around her and she clung to his hand, pulling it to rest beneath her cheek and she silently cried.

She didn’t see the tear fall from the corner of his eye.

~000~000~000~

**Two days later...**

A ‘bang’ echoed as Hermione threw a spell behind her and the large doors slammed shut in the dining room of the hotel they were investigating.

“That’s not going to stop him,” Sam panted, rifling through the collection of knives he placed onto the table, looking for one in particular.

“I know that; it’s a reflex reaction,” she glared at him, leaning against the wall and trying to get her breath back.

“Fair enough,” he shrugged.

Hermione shrieked when the doors burst open and the ghost floated into the room, the doors closing behind it and a table being lifted from the ground and thrown in her direction. She dropped to the ground and cast a _Protego_ over herself as the wooden pieces rained over her.

“I’m okay,” Hermione called before Sam could ask.

She looked up in time to see a chair being thrown at Sam who was still rifling through the collection of knives. She threw a _Protego_ over him, just in time for the chair to slam into it and fall to the floor before it could hurt him.

“Thanks,” he said, not even bothering to look at her or take his attention away from his task. He hadn’t even blinked, knowing Hermione would protect him. As much as they bickered and teased each other, he relied on her as much as he did his brother, and despite her magic, she relied on them, too.

“You found it yet?”

“No,” he replied.

Hermione made a noise of frustration before getting up from the ground and running over to him, casting a _Protego_ _Totalum_ over both of them as the ghost continued to throw objects and furniture at them.

“Got it,” he said, before picking up a knife and throwing it to the floor.

Hermione dropped the shield and threw an _Incendio_ at it and as the magical flames devoured the knife, the table that had been flying towards them fell to the ground, with the ghost bursting into flames.

Hermione and Sam both breathed a sigh of relief before leaning against a table and taking a moment of silence.

“Where’s Dean?” Hermione asked with a frown.

“I haven’t seen him since he ducked into the bathroom,” Sam said, also frowning. “He was supposed to be keeping the ghost busy and away from us.”

The doors to the dining room opened and Dean waltzed in, a plate with a large slice of cake in one hand and a fork in the other.

“Where the hell have you been?” Sam asked.

“And more importantly, where the hell did you get cake?” Hermione said with narrowed eyes.

Dean shrugged. “Once I lost the crazy bastard in the bathroom, I ran into one of the function rooms, turns out there’s a bar mitzvah going on.”

“You’re telling me, instead of helping us with the vengeful spirit that was trying to kill us, you were eating cake and partying?” Sam said disbelievingly.

“Screw that,” Hermione glared at Dean. “Where’s my cake? Is that chocolate?”

Dean laughed nervously, before putting another forkful of cake into his mouth, then handing Hermione the plate and fork. She snatched the plate and fork from him, perched on the table and proceeded to eat it sulkily.

Sam blinked.

“She’s on her period,” Dean muttered quietly.

Sam shivered at the knowledge, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice the sadness to his brother’s voice.

~000~000~000~

**Three weeks later...**

Sam frowned, hearing cries coming from the bathroom of the motel room. Dean was off getting dinner and he’d gone for a walk, needing to stretch his legs after the long drive. Knowing Hermione was the only other person in the room, he walked over to the bathroom and pushed the door open.

Much to his confusion, Hermione was sat on the floor with her back against the wall. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her arms were wrapped around her legs, as she buried her head in her knees. Her wand lay on the ground with a dull glow showing from the tip.

“Hermione?” Sam questioned quietly.

Hermione jumped at hearing his voice and she looked up at him. She wiped away her tears, sniffled and smiled at him, attempting to hide the fact she’d been crying.

“Sam? I thought you’d gone for a walk, how was it? You didn’t run into any trouble, did you? I know what you Winchesters are like for being danger magnets,” she teased.

She gripped her wand and stood up; brushing her clothing down and with a whispered word, the glow from the wand went out.

Sam frowned. “What’s wrong?” He asked softly.

“Nothing, I’m perfectly fine,” she smiled, but he saw right through it.

“You’re lying.”

“Of course, I’m not lying, what possible reason would I have for lying to you?” She said.

“Why don’t you tell me,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and blocking the way out of the bathroom.

“I wouldn’t know,” she responded, before pushing her way past him and out of the bathroom.

He caught her arm before she could make for the door and make a run for it.

“Hermione, you can talk to me, you know that.” He said softly. “What’s wrong? What was that glow on your wand?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” she lied, trying to pull away from him.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice deepening and his eyes narrowing. She looked down at the ground, feeling the tears welling up. “Talk to me,” he said, his voice softening.

She looked up at him and her resolve broke. Tears flooded her eyes, her entire body shook, a heart aching sob tore from her and she collapsed on the ground in a pile of limbs.

Sam stared in horror before he sat himself down on the floor, pulled Hermione into him and wrapped her up in his arms, not caring when Hermione gripped his shirt tightly in her hands, or when he felt her tears soaking the fabric.

“I’m...not....preg...nant,” she sobbed heartbrokenly.

Sam felt sadness fill him. Suddenly it made sense; that glow on her wand had been the results of a negative pregnancy test. _Another_ negative pregnancy test. When he thought about it, they’d met Hermione twenty months ago, and it had been less than eighteen months when he found out Dean and Hermione were trying for a baby. Hell, had it really been that long? Almost two years since meeting Hermione? He couldn’t believe how fast their time as a family had gone by.

He knew Hermione wanted a baby, and he knew Dean wanted a baby, too, but he’d never born witness to Hermione’s heartbreak at discovering that she wasn’t pregnant. He’d never seen her so broken. He was used to seeing her happy and stuffing her face with food. He was used to her laughing and teasing, to her smiling and singing. What he was witnessing now, it wasn’t Hermione; it wasn’t his sister-in-law; the strong, kick-ass witch. This was a heartbroken woman. A woman that wanted nothing more than to have a baby.

It made him wonder, he’d now seen Hermione’s true feelings on the matter, what were Dean’s? He’d only ever mentioned Hermione’s sadness and disappointment, and although he’d said he couldn’t wait for Hermione to get pregnant, Sam had never seen Dean’s reaction to the news of Hermione not being pregnant.

He looked down at the inconsolable witch in his arms when he felt her tug harder on his shirt. There was nothing he could do for her. There was nothing he could say to her. There was nothing that could be done to make her feel better. So he didn’t. He just held her and listened to her cries. She needed to get it out of her system, all of the sadness and disappointment that she’d been keeping bottled up and it wasn’t good for her.

Leaning back against one of the beds, Sam shuffled to get more comfortable, knowing he was going to be there for a while. He rocked them slightly, pressed his cheek against the top of Hermione’s head and he comforted Hermione the only way a brother could.

~000~000~000~

Hermione had long since cried herself into exhaustion and she’d fallen asleep, but not wanting to wake her he hadn’t moved them from the ground.

Sam looked up when the door opened and Dean stepped inside, his eyes immediately landing on Hermione asleep in Sam’s arms, and it was clear to him that she’d been crying.

“What happened?” Dean demanded, dropping the bag of food onto the ground and moving over to him, dropping to his knees and pushing Hermione’s hair away from her face whilst she slept.

“She’s not pregnant,” Sam said.

Sam carefully watched the way Dean’s eyes filled with disappointment and sadness, the way he took a deep breath and shut his eyes tightly before he seemed to pull himself together. Without a word, Dean took Hermione from Sam, lifting her into his arms and moving her over to their bed.

Dean placed Hermione in the centre of the bed before climbing on after her. He wrapped himself around her and she made a noise in her sleep, turning to face him and she sighed when he placed a kiss to her forehead.

Sam stood up and retrieved the bag containing their dinner and he observed Dean as he sat himself down at the table.

“We’ll have a baby, I promise,” Dean muttered in the silence of the room, to his sleeping wife. She made a noise in her sleep, as if communicating with him. “I promise, I’ll give you a baby if it’s the last thing I do,” he mumbled. Dean placed a kiss to Hermione’s forehead, before burying his face in her curls.

Sam didn’t imagine the tears falling down Dean’s face.

~000~000~000~

**Two months later...**

“I’m...”

“Hungry? What a surprise,” Sam rolled his eyes, before wincing when Hermione sat up to slap him over the back of the head.

He turned his eyes away from the road to look behind him, glaring at Hermione whilst she shrugged her shoulders and laid back down against Dean. They were cuddled up on the back seat and had been for an hour, whilst they made their way towards their next case in Kansas City, a case suspected to be a magical creature. There hadn’t been any deaths in over a week so they didn’t bother rushing to their destination, knowing the one responsible had likely already left, meaning it would be a tracking job for Hermione if that were the case.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Sam asked.

Dean lifted his head slightly and caught his brother’s gaze, sending him a raised eyebrow.

“We’re passing through Nebraska,” Sam explained.

A look of understanding lit Dean’s face, whilst Hermione frowned in confusion from her place snuggled beside him.

“Good idea, Sammy, it’s been a while.”

“Over two years,” Sam nodded. “It’s about time we visited; we need to introduce the newest Winchester after all.”

“Does someone want to explain what you’re talking about?” Hermione asked with a frustrated look on her face.

Dean chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Ellen and Jo, we’ve told you about them, haven’t we?” Dean asked.

“Briefly,” Hermione confirmed. “They’re Hunters, right? Mother and daughter, they own a bar?”

“Right in one, as always,” Dean smiled. “We’ve known them years, when we can’t take a case Bobby passes them onto Ellen and Jo, who passes them onto other Hunters. The bar they own is kind of a Hunter’s central. Hunters go for information, cases and for a drink,” he shrugged. “We haven’t seen them since before meeting you, so unless Bobby’s told them about you, which I doubt he has, they won’t even know about us. It’ll be a surprise, a good one. They’re used to us springing bad shit on them.”

Sam snorted. “I’d be surprised if they didn’t shoot us on sight.”

“They love us,” Dean said arrogantly.

“Debatable,” Sam replied.

“Shut up,” Dean glared.

“Boys,” Hermione scolded. “Well, I think I want to clean up a little before I meet them.”

“We’ll book into a motel for the night,” Sam said.

“I’ll meet you boys at this bar if you don’t want to wait for me. I’ll just track your location and apparate over.”

“Alright,” they both shrugged.

~000~000~000~

“What does a guy have to do to get service around here?” Dean asked, waltzing into the new Roadhouse, which had been rebuilt after it had been burnt down a few years ago.

“Dean Winchester, as I live and breathe.”

Dean turned his head, seeing the older woman heading out from behind the bar and making her way over to him.

“Ellen, you haven’t aged a day,” Dean grinned.

Ellen snorted. “No, I’ve aged years; you’ll be better suited at placing that charm elsewhere.” She reached him and pulled him into a hug before pulling back. “Don’t tell me you’ve come here to say the world’s ending again.”

“Not this time, we’re just passing through and thought we’d visit, it’s been a while and I know how much pain it causes for you to be denied the right of seeing my handsome face.”

Ellen shook her head and chuckled. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“No, I’ve changed a lot,” he said, a secret smile on his face.

“Where’s your brother?”

“Right here,” Sam answered, walking into the room with a smile on his face.

“Sam, nice to see you’re still alive,” Ellen said, moving to hug him.

“I can’t kick the bucket yet.”

“And you can’t be leaving your brother all alone.”

“Yeah, about that...” Dean was cut off by the appearance of one Jo Harvelle, and she hadn’t changed a bit since he last saw her.

“So the rumours are true, The Winchesters are in town.”

“Jo, how you doing?” Sam asked, as she stood behind the bar, leaning against it.

“Good, you?”

“Still alive,” he replied.

“So I see,” she snorted.

She turned her eyes to Dean, and he was aware of how her eyes swept over him. He hoped she didn’t do that when Hermione arrived. Normally he wouldn’t have noticed, but being in close quarters with his wife for the better part of two years, he was a lot more aware of women’s mannerisms, mannerisms he would’ve passed off as innocent before. It was true that when Dean had first met Jo, he’d tried to get into her pants, but since she turned him down, he hadn’t bothered, and he didn’t plan on trying ever again. He had his wife and she was all he needed and wanted.

“Dean, how you doing?” She asked him, a flirtatious smile appearing on her face.

Dean frowned slightly; she’d never looked at him like that before, had she? He heard Sam snigger from beside him and he elbowed him in the stomach.

“I’m better than I’ve ever been,” he said honestly. “I’m happy, peaceful,” he admitted.

“Is that so? And what’s brought this on?” She asked.

Ellen looked intrigued by his words, as she rounded the bar and began to pull out two beers for the brothers. Her eyes swept them, noting the way that both Dean and Sam looked to be in perfect health, physically and even mentally, which couldn’t be said for the last time she’d saw them.

“How much time do you have?” Dean responded.

“For you, all the time in the world,” she smiled.

Dean blinked, as did Sam, having thought Jo had previously been messing with Dean, but both brothers quickly realised that she wasn’t. Her flirtation was serious. Dean cleared his throat and took the beers from the counter, passing one to Sam and downing half of his. Sam snorted.

“We’re going to need another one, Ellen,” Dean said.

“Why?” She asked with a cocked eyebrow, but pulling another out and handing it to him.

“Let’s catch up,” he said, avoiding the question and heading over to one of the tables, Ellen, Jo –who both had two beers each in their hands- and Sam followed after him, and thankfully, Sam sat next to him so Jo couldn’t. He got the feeling she would get too close for comfort if she were given the opportunity.

“So, what’s happened since we last saw you?” Ellen asked. Both brothers looked at each other and smiled, setting off the curiosity inside of her.

“Business as usual,” Sam said. “Hunting, travelling, more hunting,” he shrugged.

“It’s been far more eventful than that,” Dean said amused.

“Oh?” Jo questioned, leaning forward and resting her arms on the table. “Why?”

Before Dean could respond, the sound of footsteps drew his attention and he turned his head, his eyes immediately locking on his wife, and much to his glee, she was wearing her leather jacket. He loved her in her jacket.

“That’s why,” Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes as Dean stood up and a smile spread across his face.

He left the table and met Hermione halfway, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a hug, his nose burying in her hair.

“You’ve showered? That was quick,” he commented, happily breathing in the fresh scent of caramel and apples.

“Magic,” she shrugged.

He kissed her cheek and pulled back from her, slinging his arm around her shoulders and making their way over to the table.

“Ellen and Jo,” he muttered into her ear, seeing the way her eyes swept over the two women, before landing fully on the young, pretty blonde.

“I haven’t slept with her, promise,” he said quietly. “We’ll introduce you, we’re keeping your witchy magic a secret, we don’t know how they’ll react but I can’t imagine it being any better than how I did when we first met.”

She nodded, before putting a friendly smile on her face as they stopped at the table. Both women looked her over appraisingly, and the blonde frowned, her eyes darting between her and Dean.

“Ellen, Jo, this is...”

“Hermione Winchester, it’s nice to meet you, the boys have spoken of you fondly,” she said.

“Winchester!” They both spluttered in surprise.

“You have a sister?” Jo said shocked.

Sam burst out laughing while Dean and Hermione grimaced.

“God, I hope not!” Sam laughed.

“She’s my wife,” Dean said.

A beer bottle fell to the ground, smashing, the contents covering the ground and their shoes, whilst they looked to be on the verge of fainting.


	90. Chapter 90

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 10

“Wife?” They choked on their breath, coughing and their eyes watering.

“Wife,” Dean said with a smile, before sitting in his chair.

Hermione made to pull another chair over to the table but Dean stopped her by pulling her on to his lap. She rolled her eyes but hooked an arm around his neck, her fingers lightly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He wrapped an arm around her waist and the other he rested on her thigh, his fingers tapping out a rhythm.

“I don’t understand,” Jo said, her eyes darting between Hermione and Dean, seeing the way they were completely comfortable with each other and they were relaxed in the other’s presence.

“What’s there to understand? She’s my wife, I’m her husband, we’re married,” Dean shrugged.

“But you’re Dean Winchester,” Jo protested.

Dean looked at Hermione with a shocked look on his face. “Here that, Sweetheart, my name’s Dean Winchester, I’m so glad I was reminded of that, I’d forgotten.”

Hermione huffed and smacked at his chest with her free hand. “Stop being a bloody prat, from what I’ve learned about your past, I don’t blame her for her reaction.”

Dean gave her a look of innocence and she turned her eyes back to the two women who were staring at them both, speechless.

“Ignore him, he’s an arsehole,” Hermione said, jumping when Dean pinched her side, but she narrowed her eyes at him and tugged on his ear lobe.

“Children,” Sam spoke in a manner that reminded them both of Molly Weasley and they instantly stopped, much to his amusement.

“I can understand your surprise at discovering that Dean’s married,” Hermione said kindly.

Ellen seemed to sober, she took a large swig of her drink before fixing her stare on Hermione, apparently looking for something that would help her decide if she liked her or not.

“How long you kids been together?” Ellen asked, while Jo picked up a second beer bottle and took a large swig of it.

Hermione and Dean smiled at each other. “A while,” Dean shrugged.

“We’ve been married coming up two years in March,” Hermione answered.

“Two years!” Jo spluttered, spitting out her beer. Hermione grimaced and fought the urge to whip out her wand and clean up the mess.

“Yes, two years.”

“Where’d you marry? How’d you meet?” Ellen asked.

“As you can likely tell, I was born and raised in England. I was all but adopted by my best friend’s family when I was young and when my parents died they took me in and raised me. Dean and I married on their property in Devon, England, Castiel married us.”

“The Angel? You know him?”

Sam laughed. “I should hope so, he’s her Guardian Angel.”

“What?” Both women stuttered.

“I understand this is a lot for you to take in. Castiel’s my Guardian Angel and has been since I was a young child. He’s been with me sixteen years, helping to keep me safe and protecting me.”

“When he feels like it, he does,” Dean grumbled. She swatted at his arm.

“Anyway, I met Dean and Sam when working on a case, they offered their help and I couldn’t refuse. We didn’t exactly see eye to eye when we first met.”

“But I soon wised up and I saw the amazing woman she is,” Dean said, nuzzling her neck and breathing in her scent.

“So you’re a Hunter?” Ellen asked.

“You could say that,” Hermione chuckled and the brothers shared a smirk, which confused the mother and daughter duo.

“Does Bobby know?” Jo asked, eyeing Hermione in a way Dean didn’t like. Was she jealous?

“I should hope so, he was at the wedding,” Dean said. “Bobby and Hermione had met long before we did. When we met, he was the one that assured us we could trust her. He wouldn’t admit it, but she’s like a daughter to him.”

“Really?” Hermione asked, feeling tears welling up in her eyes at the revelation and thinking of the grumpy Hunter.

“Hmm, he cried at the wedding.”

“He did not,” she scoffed.

“He did, he borrowed a tissue from Molly,” Sam said amused. Hermione blinked in surprise.

“That doesn’t sound like Bobby,” Jo said with narrowed eyes.

Sam shrugged, before digging into his pocket and pulling out his phone and calling Bobby, placing it on loudspeaker.

“What do you Idjits want?” Bobby’s gruff voice spoke. “And can it hurry up, I’m planning on taking a nap?”

The three Winchesters snorted.

“Charming, Bobby,” Hermione said.

“Missy? How you doing?” He asked, his voice softening in a way no one but Hermione had heard him use, especially since he discovered she and Dean were trying for a baby.

“I’m doing fine, Bobby, please tell me you’re taking care of yourself. I’m not above sending Molly your way.”

Bobby grumbled down the phone whilst the brothers laughed.

“She plays dirty,” Sam chuckled. “Threatening him with your mother.”

“That’s my girl,” Dean said proudly.

“There’s no need to send her over, I’m quite capable of looking after myself,” Bobby replied.

“Yes, but a good home-cooked meal will do you some good, you can’t keep living off that junk you call food,” Hermione spoke.

“The phrase ‘pot calling the kettle black’ comes to mind,” Bobby said.

“I’m not the one with high cholesterol.”

“How the hell did you get my medical records?”

“You don’t want to know,” Hermione responded.

“She’s right, you don’t,” Dean piped up.

“Idiot, Winchesters,” he muttered. “Is there something you wanted, or did you call just to annoy me?”

“Both,” Hermione said without missing a beat.

Bobby snorted. “I’m not surprised.”

“Bobby, we’re with Ellen and Jo,” Dean said. “Ellen wants to know if you approve of Hermione, bearing in mind they’ve just discovered I’m married.”

“Missy’s one of the best, I trust her with my life,” Bobby said. “Now if that’s all, I’m going for my nap. Before I forget, Ricky’s here.”

Hermione sighed. “What have you given him?”

“I haven’t _given_ him anything, the little demon’s stolen two cookies, a muffin, bacon _and_ a twinkie.”

Hermione made a noise of frustration. “Send him home.”

“I’ve tried, he won’t leave.”

“Stop feeding him, then he will.”

“I’m not _feeding_ him, he keeps stealing it right from my hand,” he protested, whilst the brothers chuckled and shook their heads, and Ellen and Jo blinked in surprise and confusion.

“Backup plan, send him to the kids, he loves seeing them.”

“Alright, I’ll try, take care of each other.”

“We always do,” the three Winchesters replied together before the line went dead, silence falling in the room.

“Bobby approves,” Dean said, “And as you heard from that call, he loves Hermione.”

The two women blinked.

“I can’t believe you’re married,” Ellen sat back in her chair, still watching them carefully.

“I am, and it’s been the best two years of my life,” Dean said, turning his head to smile at Hermione. She ran her hand through his hair and smiled at him. His eyes fluttered closed as she lightly scratched at his scalp and he sighed, before placing a kiss to her cheek.

“They’re always like this, actually, they’re worse, so much worse,” Sam grimaced and shivered. “The things I’ve witnessed and heard are horrifying.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Don’t start, or things for you will be so much worse.”

“That’s not possible.”

“It is,” Hermione smirked and Sam froze at the look.

He cleared his throat. “So, the motel, how is it?” He asked.

“Not bad, we’ve stayed in some places worse, this one has a microwave; we’ve been upgraded.” They both snorted at her.

“And have you...” Sam made the motion or waving a wand.

“I have, in your room and ours,” she confirmed.

“Thank, God,” he sighed.

“Right, I’m dying for a wee, is there a bathroom I can use?” Hermione asked.

Ellen gestured to a door off to the side and Hermione stood and disappeared from view, the women watching as Dean watched Hermione leave. He still looked happy, but less so when she wasn’t in his presence.

“You seem different,” Ellen commented.

“I am different,” Dean shrugged and picked up his beer. “I feel different. Hermione, she’s good for me, really good. She makes our way of life easier, more bearable. I’m happy, I’m peaceful. I’m stronger because of her. She’s made me a better man and a better Hunter. Given how long I’ve been doing this, I thought there wasn’t much left to learn about the supernatural, but I was wrong. She’s got knowledge even Bobby doesn’t have. She’s beautiful, she’s strong, she’s sarcastic and witty, she’s fearless and doesn’t take bullshit from anyone...”

Sam snorted, cutting him off. “That I have to agree with.”

“And she’s a genius, she’s borderline Stephen Hawking’s genius. I’m lucky we met. I may not have trusted her when we first met, but it didn’t take me long to see her for what she is. An Angel, _my_ Angel. And fuck, can she eat! She eats more than both of us combined.”

“You love her, don’t you?” Ellen said; a look of acceptance on her face.

“I wouldn’t have married her if I didn’t,” Dean responded, his eyes locked on the bathroom door, waiting for Hermione to exit.

She turned to look at Sam. “And how do you feel about Dean being married? The three of you travel together?”

Sam shrugged. “I’m happy for Dean and for Hermione, they deserve each other. And Hermione, she’s like a sister to me, an annoying, pain in the ass, big sister. It’s nice having someone else to talk to other than Dean. And I know I can rely on her, I trust her with my life. I’ve lost count of how many times she’s saved our lives since meeting. She gives us new experiences, she’s given us a family.”

“Meaning?” Ellen asked.

Dean looked to Jo, seeing the way she had her arms crossed and she was glaring at the table, she hadn’t spoken in ages.

“Hermione comes from a big family,” Dean explained. “She and her best friend were all but adopted and raised by her other best friend’s family. Hermione has eight non-biological brothers and one non-biological sister. There used to be twin brothers but one of them died ten years ago. Each sibling is married, with the exception of one of her brothers who is in a committed relationship, and another who can’t seem to settle down. Again, each sibling has kids, apart from that one brother that’s in a committed relationship. They’re our nieces and nephews, we visit them in London as often as we can.”

“Yeah, Lily Petal has him wrapped around her little finger,” Sam said amused.

“She does not,” Dean denied.

“Oh she does, don’t even deny it, you’d kill for that little girl. If she’s got you like this when she’s only three, I can’t imagine what’ll happen when she reaches her teenage years.”

“Never going to happen, she’s not growing up, I forbid it; she’s staying Lily Petal for the rest of her life. And boys are not allowed within twenty feet of her, and she sure as hell isn’t dating.”

“If you say so, but she’s got two older brothers, eleven cousins, one dad and eight uncles, I don’t think any guy will be getting near her for fear of death.”

“I’ll shoot him if he does.”

Sam snorted. “I doubt she’d like that.”

“Dean threatening Lily’s future boyfriends again?” Hermione’s voice flittered to their ears as she approached them.

Dean scowled. “It’s not a threat, it’s a promise.”

Hermione gave him an amused smile and her eyes sparkled. Dean stood up and made his way over to her, stopping her by the bar and pinning her against the counter. He looked down at her and her up at him.

“If you think I’m bad now, just wait until we have a daughter,” he muttered.

Her smile faltered slightly and he reached up and pushed her hair behind her ears.

“We’ll have a baby,” he said quietly. “Just be patient. It’ll happen when it’s meant to.” She sighed and nodded. He lowered his head and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Mrs. Winchester, did you wear this for me?” he asked, tugging on her leather jacket.

She shrugged. “I know how much you like when I wear it, so I promised myself that I’d wear it more often.”

“I approve,” he nodded.

“I thought you might, and you’re just going to _love_ what I’ve got on underneath.”

He made a low growling sound before claiming her mouth with his. He picked her up and deposited her on the bar, stepping in-between her parted legs and she wrapped them around him, her hands winding in his hair and her nails scratching at his scalp.

Ellen and Jo stared in disbelief. Sam finished the last of his beer and picked up the bottle that had been meant for Hermione, before taking a swig, completely unaffected by Hermione and Dean’s display.

“They’re always like this, you get used to it,” Sam shrugged, whilst Ellen and Jo continued to stare in shock. “Oi, get a room!” Sam called.

Hermione and Dean pulled back from each other and pressed their foreheads together as they regained their breath.

“Give me a baby,” Hermione whispered quietly, _pleadingly_ , her thumb lightly brushing his cheek.

Dean slipped a hand down to her stomach and placed it under her t-shirt, pressing it against her warm skin, just below her belly button where their baby would grow.

“Working on it, Sweetheart. Not much longer now, I promise.”

She closed her eyes. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I’d never make you a promise I couldn’t keep. I promise, we won’t have to wait much longer.”

“How do you know?”

“I can feel it, I don’t know how, but I can feel it.”

He wasn’t going to tell her that he’d been having strange dreams over the last couple of weeks, dreams of Hermione with a swollen belly and glowing as their baby grew inside of her. She’d think him crazy.

“Okay, then let’s go make a baby.”

“I like the way you think,” he muttered against her mouth.

“I’ve been doing some reading on ways to improve the chance of pregnancy during sex,” she informed him and he raised an eyebrow. “And some of the methods actually look to be interesting.”

“Is that so? Then lead the way, Mrs. Winchester.”

He took her hand and she jumped off the bar.

“It was lovely meeting you,” Hermione called over her shoulder, as Dean pulled her towards the exit.

“See you later,” Dean said, throwing Sam the car keys, knowing Hermione would apparate them to the motel.

“Thank God, we’re not sharing,” Sam sighed, looking up at the ceiling thankfully. “I don’t mind sharing a room with them, but when they’re like this, I end up sleeping in the car to get away from them.”

“Newlyweds,” Ellen shrugged, picking up her beer.

“It’s not, they’ve been married almost two years,” he reminded her. “The only time they don’t have sex is when she’s on her period, and that’s only because she put her foot down when Dean suggested it. I know, I was there for that argument,” he grimaced and shivered. “You got any food?” Sam asked. “I’m not returning to the motel yet, my room’s next to theirs and I’m driving so I can’t drink anymore. I need something to keep me here as long as possible.”

Ellen chuckled before shaking her head and standing up, disappearing into a room behind the bar.

“You’re quiet,” Sam said, eyeing Jo as she stared at her beer bottle.

She looked up at him and blinked. “He’s married,” she frowned.

“He is, and he’s happy, don’t be ruining it for him. I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s always been a one night stand type of guy, he’s always had a wandering eye and he’s never been with the same woman more than once. When he met Hermione, everything changed for him. Now she’s all he wants. He’s never looked at another woman since, he’s never thought about another woman since and he’s very possessive of her; I’ve seen him break a guy’s nose because he thought he was looking at Hermione for too long.”

Jo blinked slowly at the information.

“You like him,” Sam said knowingly. “I don’t know where your feelings have come from since you didn’t give a toss about him the last time we saw you, or maybe you did and we didn’t notice. Since being around Hermione, we’ve become a lot more observant and aware of women and their mannerisms and intentions. If you did have feelings for him, why did you never act on them? Why did you reject him when he came onto you all those years ago?”

Jo remained silent.

“I mean it, Jo, don’t interfere, they love each other and they’d kill to protect each other, it wouldn’t be the first time. And as Dean is possessive of Hermione, she’s just as possessive of him. You wouldn’t believe the things she’s capable of and she wouldn’t hesitate to use her skills to get rid of you should you try to take Dean away from her, not that you’d succeed, no matter how pretty you are or how much you tried. They’ve got a life together, they live for each other and nothing is going to get in the way of that. And before you shoot me, this isn’t a threat, it’s a warning from a friend to a friend. I know them two better than anyone. I spend more time with them than I do away from them. I know what they’re capable of and I know what they’d do should they feel their relationship is being threatened.”

~000~000~000~

“Wow!” Dean muttered, his breathing heavy as he stared up at the ceiling.

“I know right,” Hermione replied, turning her head to look at him.

“You should do research more often,” he said.

She laughed at him before shifting the pillow that she had under her hips slightly, to make it more comfortable.

“Why’d you do that?” He asked her, turning on his side to face her.

She shrugged. “I read that titling your pelvis upwards increases the chances of pregnancy. Of course, it’s not scientifically proven to be true, but I’ve read a couple of articles were women have sworn they fell pregnant by doing so. Whether it’s true or not, it doesn’t hurt to try.”

He lifted his hand and placed it against her stomach, wishing for the day she was pregnant to come quickly. It had been nearly two years since they decided to try for a baby and despite what the magical doctors said, despite what Castiel said and despite what the unicorn had told him, he couldn’t help losing a small piece of hope every time Hermione’s Pregnancy Charm turned up negative. It was getting harder and harder to stay optimistic, it was getter harder and harder to comfort Hermione and assure her they’d have a baby, particularly since he was no longer as confident as he once was.

“Have you done a test?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No, I haven’t done one for two months, just as I promised I wouldn’t.”

Dean had made Hermione swear to him that she’d stop casting Pregnancy Charms. For two years she’d been doing one the day before her period was due and for two years they’d both been filled with sadness and disappointment when the results were negative. Dean couldn’t take the knowing anymore, and neither could Hermione.

He’d much prefer for it to be a surprise. He’d much prefer for her to have symptoms of pregnancy before casting another charm. They’d still had to comfort each other when Hermione had gotten her period, but for some reason, it was more bearable.

“So, what’d you think of Ellen and Jo?” He changed the subject, keeping his hand splayed across her stomach but reaching over to pull the blanket over them, protecting them from the slight chill in the room.

“I’m not sure yet,” she frowned. “Ellen, I get the feeling she’s a lot like Molly. Strong, protective, stubborn, would die for her family.” Dean nodded. “And I hope over time she comes to trust me, or at least know that I’d never do anything to hurt you and Sam.”

“And Jo?” He asked, almost uncertainly she noticed, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

Her frown deepened and she bit her lip. “There’s something off about her.” He cocked his eyebrow questioningly. “I’m not quite sure what it is. The entire time I was there, I felt like she was plotting my death, and even when I wasn’t looking at her I could feel her stare on me, as if she was trying to set me on fire with her gaze alone. She likes you, doesn’t she?” She asked, jealousy making a presence in her tone.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I wasn’t lying when I said to you I’ve never slept with her. When we first met I flirted a bit and I did try to get in pants,” he admitted and she glared at him. He moved his fingers over her stomach, tracing soothing patterns in hopes it would calm her. It did. His touch always calmed her. “She turned me down and I haven’t tried since. She’s never shown an interest in me before, and I haven’t seen her in two and a half years, at least. I noticed she was flirting a bit before you arrived, but I ignored it. She’s not going to be a problem. I bet Sammy’s warning her off now.”

“I need to buy him a new laptop,” she said. He snorted at her. “He’s been complaining about the rubbish battery life for a while now, and it keeps overheating, too.”

Dean shrugged. “He’s had it for years; I don’t even know how it’s still working.”

“That settles it then, I’m getting him a new laptop. One that’s easily portable, lightweight, has a big screen and has all the bells and whistles. You know anything about laptops?”

“I know how to turn one on,” he replied and she laughed at him.

“That’s more than I know,” she shook her head. “I guess I’ll just have to rely on the tech whizz in the shop. Next time we’re passing by an Apple store, we’ll stop so I can purchase one for him.”

“You do that and you’d have a friend for life,” he said amused.

“I already do, he loves me,” she shrugged and he snorted. She sighed.

“I know that look; you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “Starved, we only stopped to pick up a few snacks and I haven’t had a proper meal since lunch yesterday.”

He shook his head. “Come on then, let’s get cleaned up and we’ll go get you some dinner.”

“Actually, do you mind if we eat here?” She asked. “The article said to keep my pelvis tilted for half an hour before moving, and I want to take a shower.”

“Again?”

“I’m all sweaty and sticky,” she grimaced, pushing her hair out of her face.

A smirk crept up onto his face. “It was quite a workout, wasn’t it?”

“I’m not saying anything as I know your ego will inflate to the size of a hot air balloon.”

“The new scratches you’ve added to the collection on my back have already done that.”

She rolled her eyes, before he leaned over and kissed her and then made his way into the bathroom, presumably to clean up. He exited ten minutes later, dressed and looking refreshed.

“Sammy’s got the car, I’ll have to walk it, thankfully, I saw a pizza place about ten minutes from here.”

“And that’s why I love you,” she said. “You’d do anything to get me food.”

“Safer that way,” he snorted. “And I can’t have you starving to death, who’d make me pie?”

“Charming,” she scoffed. He grinned at her, before leaning over her to place a quick kiss to her lips.

“Pepperoni?” He questioned.

She bit her lip, apparently trying to make a decision. “No, I fancy meat, and lots of it.” He raised an eyebrow. “Chicken, ham, sausage _and_ bacon.”

“Alright then,” he said amused. “I should be no longer than an hour.”

“I’ll be here with a pillow stuffed under me to increase my chances of making a baby.”

He chuckled at her, before giving her another kiss and leaving out the door, locking it behind him and taking the key with him.


	91. Chapter 91

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 10

Ellen looked up from her conversation with Sam when her daughter appeared from behind the bar with a jacket on, car keys in her hand and a small bag slung over her shoulder. She narrowed her eyes, and Sam did the same when he looked up.

“Where are you going?” She asked her daughter.

“Just to get some groceries, we’re out of milk and bread, and I want some cookies and ice-cream. I thought I’d head over to the store now before it closes.”

“It’s still early,” Ellen said, looking up at the clock over the bar.

“Jefferson’s closing the store early tonight, last time I saw him he mentioned something about going to his Grandson’s soccer game.”

Ellen narrowed her eyes further. “What were you going for again?”

“Milk, bread, eggs and cereal.”

“You said you were going for cookies and ice-cream.”

“I am, but we need eggs and cereal, too,” Jo shrugged. “I won’t be gone long, see you later,” she said, walking out of the door.

Sam looked to Ellen with a frown on his face; he a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“She’s lying, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Ellen said, her eyes still held on the door her daughter had just walked through.

“Well, it’s been nice seeing you, Ellen, but I better get back to Hermione and Dean. I have no doubt Hermione’s complained about being hungry by this point and Dean would’ve gone to get her something, if I get back in time there might actually be some food left.” Ellen snorted. “Dean wasn’t kidding when he said she eats more than the both of us combined, and you’ve witnessed how much food Dean can put away. I’ve watched her eat two double bacon cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings, chicken wings, more fries, and to top that off, two slices of pie, and that was just in one sitting!”

Ellen snorted once more and Sam shook his head.

“Right, I better go, we’ll come back tomorrow before we leave.”

Sam stood up and removed his jacket from the back of his chair and he slipped it on. He put his hands into his pockets with the intention to pull out the car keys, only his pockets were empty.

Sam frowned, before his eyes scanned the table and floor, thinking that maybe they’d fallen out.

“What are you doing?” Ellen asked.

“The car keys, I can’t find them.”

“Where’d you last have them?”

“I could’ve sworn I put them in my pocket and now they’re gone.”

Ellen and Sam looked at each other before the pieces fell into place.

“I went to the bathroom,” he said.

“And I answered the phone.”

“Jo was alone with my jacket. She’s not gone to get groceries,” he said, feeling dread fill him.

“She’s gone to Dean.” Ellen quickly stood up and darted out of the room, before returning with a jacket in hand and a set of car keys, which she threw at Sam. “You’re driving, you’re still under the limit; I’m not.”

They both made their way out to Ellen’s truck and hopped in.

“How does she even know where we’re staying?” Sam asked.

“There’s only two motels within miles of The Roadhouse, it won’t take her long to discover which one it is.”

“If she harms Hermione, Dean will kill her, you know that right?”

“Then you better hope we get there before she does,” Ellen replied.

“There’s things that you don’t understand about Hermione and Dean’s relationship, things that I can’t tell you as that would be betraying their trust, and these things need to be kept a secret for their safety, particularly Hermione’s.”

“Why?”

“Crowley’s taken an interest in her.” Ellen made a noise of surprise. “At first it was because she’s been spotted travelling with us, and her relationship with Dean was made known to him. He kidnapped her wanting information about Dean, about why she was the one to tie him down. Dean rescued her, not that she needed it, mind. She’d already taken care of Crowley by the time he got there. A while later Crowley kidnapped me, Hermione and Dean rescued me, I was kidnapped not to get to Dean, but to get to Hermione. There’s things you can’t and don’t understand about Hermione. She’s special, _really_ special, and if Crowley were to learn these things about her, it would be game over.”

Ellen seemed taken aback by his words before a thoughtful look crossed her face.

“Hermione, that’s not a very common name,” she mused. “What’s her maiden name?”

Sam turned his head, eyeing her carefully. “Granger, why?”

“Shit!” Ellen cursed loudly, and Sam slammed on the brakes in surprise, the truck skidding to a stop.

“Hermione Granger, _The_ Hermione Granger? The Witch? Your brother married _The_ Hermione Granger?”

Sam stared with his jaw all but hitting the floor and his eyes as wide as saucers.

“How do you know that?” He asked quietly.

Despite her surprise, she rolled her eyes. “Bobby’s not the only one that knows of true born magic, nor is he the only one that knows of the war that took place. I’ve heard of Hermione Granger and I know she fought in a war and helped to protect and save her world, and in doing so, she saved ours.” Sam blinked, speechless. “And Will’s father was a Squib.” Sam spluttered. “Before he died he told us both of the world of magic, in hopes that we could prevent any trueborn magicals from being harmed.” 

“I don’t know what to say,” he said honestly. “Are you going to kill her now that you know her identity?”

“Don’t be stupid,” she scolded, “Of course I’m not, it’s thanks to her that the US never faced any of the tragedies Europe did. I may not have heard of her in years, and I may not know anything about her after the end of the war, but what I do know is she’s a powerful witch that’s done good with her magic. Unless she’s turned dark, you have no reason to worry about her safety around me. And I now understand why Bobby approves of her.”

Sam sighed in relief, before quickly continuing their way to the motel. “Does Jo know?”

“No, and if she discovers Hermione’s a witch, she won’t hesitate to kill her.”

“Dean won’t let that happen, he loves her. You know that Hermione’s a witch, but there’s other circumstances at play. Their relationship, as much as they love and protect each other, it’s not solely their fault of how protective and possessive they are of each other.”

“Meaning?” Ellen asked with a narrowed gaze, daring him to lie to her.

“Since meeting Hermione we’ve learned a lot about her and the Wizarding World and it’s magical creatures and magic. All her family members are magical, we’ve met them all, we’ve spent time with them, we’ve looked after some of the children for a few days. We visit as often as we can, and we’ve seen the world she comes from and honestly, it’s amazing. I’ve seen it several times since meeting her and I still can’t believe it exists. Hermione’s technically a Hunter like us, only she works for the magical government. She’s the head of a department that focuses on magical creatures and criminals that escape into this world. She’s highly accomplished, she’s loved and valued, and she’s a celebrity. You should’ve seen the media coverage when her world found out she was married, she was Europe’s most eligible bachelorette beforehand.”

Ellen seemed surprised.

“Magical creatures, some of them have life mates in which they are the perfect companion to the other, they share a soul, they belong to each other and they live and breathe for each other. This can happen with witches and wizards though Hermione explained it was a very rare occurrence. We discovered that Hermione and Dean are bound for not only life, but death, too.”

Ellen took a deep breath and screwed her eyes shut.

“They share a soul, and they are protective and possessive of each other because they know they belong to each other. Hermione made it perfectly clear that the love she and Dean have for each other has nothing to do with her magic binding them, it cannot force or influence their emotions, their emotions and feelings are their own. Some witches and wizards that are bound together actually hate each other,” he shrugged.

“Hermione and Dean live for each other. They get sick when they’re away from each other for too long, and we learned that the hard way. It’s why we try not to separate them for long periods of time, should we need to split up, more often than not Hermione and Dean go together, it’s better for their safety and peace of mind when they’re together. They’re stronger together than they are apart, they love each other more than anyone I’ve ever seen. They’d die for each other and they’d kill for each other, and they have, several times. If Jo goes after Hermione, Dean won’t let her live. Hermione is his entire world and should anything happen to her, he wouldn’t survive it. Physically, emotionally and mentally.”

Ellen took a deep breath, closed her eyes and counted to ten.

“That’s a lot to take in. Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Plenty, but I can’t tell you, they’re Hermione and Dean’s secrets. Hermione being a witch is why Crowley’s interested in her. He doesn’t know who she is, but he does know there’s something different about her. He knows she’s not only supernatural, but she’s human, too.”

“Crowley discovering her identity wouldn’t be good for anyone.”

“I know, that’s why we’re doing everything we can to avoid him. We have a home base now, Hermione’s stinking rich and has several properties. We’re using her apartment in Cambridge as a home base, it’s protected by her magic and Castiel placed demon wardings and Enochian symbols around the building for extra security so we can’t be found there. When we’re not working cases, we’re either there or in London visiting the family. Despite being Hunters, they’ve taken us in and they treat us like family, Molly treats us like we’re her sons. It’s nice having a mom, since I’ve never experienced what it feels like. Anyway, Hermione had a Hunter’s library and armoury built in the apartment for us, and it’s equivalent to Bobby’s, bigger even. Hermione used magic to copy every single text Bobby owns, including the ones which are the only ones in existence. She’s made hunting so much easier, and with her magic, we have power behind us. We don’t get injured as much and when we do, she uses her magic and potions to heal us.”

“Anything else?”

“Not really, but did you know there’s two types of vampires and werewolves?” Ellen blinked, a blank look on her face. “We’ve dealt with several magical werewolves, Dean and I both agree that regular werewolves are much easier. We haven’t met a magical vampire yet and I don’t really want to. We’ve met a giant squid, ghosts and poltergeists that didn’t want to kill us, they’d rather throw water balloons at us, which Hermione was not happy about,” he snorted, remembering that day they’d visited Hogwarts and being introduced to Peeves. “We’ve met creatures that show you your worst fears, and that was not pleasant; and my favourite magical creature by far, unicorns.”

“Unicorns?” She spluttered.

“They’re real, Hermione got a case a while back to find and rescue three baby unicorns that had wandered into our world. One of them was injured. The two females allowed us to feed them apples and pet them, whilst Hermione healed the injured male. We walked them back to the entrance to the Wizarding World; it’s my favourite case by far.”

“I need a drink,” Ellen muttered.

“We need to stop Jo from doing something stupid. She likes Dean, doesn’t she?”

Ellen sighed. “Yeah, and she has for a while. She was hoping that the next time you visited they could talk things through and possibly give a relationship between them a go. Being a Hunter and having a relationship doesn’t work unless your partner is a Hunter themselves. I think Jo’s just lonely. Discovering that Dean’s married has sent her over the edge, she’s letting her jealousy, loneliness and disappointment cloud her judgement. Will Hermione harm her?”

“Only if she hurts Dean. Something inside of her takes over when Dean’s in danger, it’s like she’s not in control of her own actions and something darker, more primal takes control of her body. You need to know, Hermione doesn’t only have magic at her disposal, she’s handy with a gun and even better with knives. I’ve never seen someone with aim quite like hers, she’s even better than Dean. If Hermione hurts Jo, or worse, kills her, it’s not her fault, you need to know that.”

~000~000~000~

Hermione stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself and a second one around her hair. She stood in front of the mirror above the sink, staring at herself with her hand pressed against her flat stomach, wishing for a baby to be growing inside of her. She sighed and left the bathroom.

She picked up her wand from the bedside table before giving it a wave, summoning underwear and clothing from her beaded bag that lay on top of the table. She caught the items of clothing and laid them down on the bed, scrutinizing them, deciding if they were going to be comfy enough.

She nodded to herself before quickly dressing in her underwear, slipping on the pink sleep shorts and pulling the grey tank top over her head. She returned to the bathroom and with a flick of her wand, the mess was tidied up, the towel disappeared from her head and Hermione’s hair fell down her back in perfectly dry ringlets.

She exited the bathroom, and feeling the urge for a little bit of a pampering session, she climbed onto the bed and summoned a small bottle of nail varnish from her beaded bag. She only ever carried one colour with her as she could easily change it with her wand. She reached over to the bedside table and turned on the radio, and she listened to the music playing and dancing a little, too, as she set to painting her fingernails white, before moving onto her toes. She waved her wand over her nails and they instantly dried.

With a thoughtful frown on her face, she flicked her wand, changing the colour of the nail varnish from white, to blue, to purple, before finally settling on pale pink. Once she was happy with her decision, she placed the nail varnish on the table and sat back with her back pressed against the headboard of her bed, her eyes scanning her surroundings and seeing the state the room was in.

Bedsheets were in a pile on the floor, as were hers and Dean’s clothing since they hadn’t been exactly patient in getting rid of their clothes. Dean’s shirt hung over the lamp, whilst her jeans were on top of the microwave. One of her shoes lay by the door and the other was on the other side of the room, sat underneath one of the chairs at the table. Her jacket was hung on the back of the chair, and her shirt was on the table, whilst Dean’s jeans were hung over the TV. She smiled to herself and shook her head, deciding to clean the mess up.

She jumped up from the bed and with her wand in hand, she set about levitating all of their clothing and with a flick of her wand, it was folded neatly and sat on the table. She turned her attention to the bed and she wasted no time in changing the bedsheets and making the bed perfectly made. She put her hands on her hips and made a noise of satisfaction, before the song on the radio drew her attention and she felt a smile pull at her mouth. It was one that she’d recognise anywhere. It was the song that was played at her wedding, the song of their first dance.

She turned around and flicked her wand, summoning the TV remote and catching it effortlessly in her outstretched hand, before flicking through the limited channels available.

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and a sense of danger washed over her. She gripped her wand in her hand, before silently, quickly, turning around with her wand outstretched and pointed towards the door, where one Jo Harvelle stood with a gun pointed at her and a look of disgust and hatred on her face.

Hermione silently cursed, she hadn’t warded the door! She’d been distracted by Dean when they returned to the motel and after he’d left, she’d completely forgotten she hadn’t warded the door or windows. Even if Dean had locked the door behind him and taken the key, she knew Hunters were fairly efficient at picking locks.

“Jo, what are you doing here?” She asked calmly, though she didn’t lower her wand.

Judging by the look on Jo’s face, she had seen her casting magic and she’d put two and two together. She knew she was a witch, there was no point in hiding her wand.

“Where’s Dean?” Jo asked, a barely restrained sneer on her face.

Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly. “Out, he’s gone to get dinner, he should be back any moment now.”

“Then I suppose I better kill you quickly,” she lowered the gun slightly, aiming it at Hermione’s heart.

“You kill me and you won’t make it out of here alive,” Hermione warned.

“That a threat?”

“No, a promise. Dean will kill you.”

Jo laughed. “Dean will thank me. When you die, whatever Love Spell you have on him will wear off and he’d gladly go home with me.”

Hermione felt jealously flare up at the obvious meaning behind those words. She took a calming deep breath.

“There’s no such thing as a Love Spell, and I certainly haven’t done anything to Dean. His feelings are his own. He proposed to me of his own free will, and in front of my entire family, too. He married me of his own free will. He sleeps beside me every night, holding me tightly, kissing my shoulder, nuzzling at my neck because he loves that I smell like pie, or say he says anyway. I would never use such magic on him or anyone else for that matter. Do you honestly think Dean would marry someone he believed to be evil, a monster?”

“Dean would die before he willingly married a _witch_.”

“You say that word as if it’s an insult. It’s not, genius. I’m a witch, it’s who I am, who I was born to be. I can’t change my genetic makeup. All I can do is pass it on to our children.”

Jo sneered hatefully and her finger went to the trigger on her gun.

“Don’t do this, you’re not stupid. If you’re lucky enough to survive what Dean would do to you, you certainly wouldn’t survive Sammy’s actions. I’m his big sister, not through marriage to his brother, but because he loves me. We were friends before Dean and I started a relationship. He’s the one that encouraged Dean to pluck up the courage and ask me out, he doesn’t think I know about that, but I do.”

“I kill you, Dean’s free of your darkness, and Sam will be, too, since you obviously have him fooled.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, she couldn’t help herself.

“Killing me won’t impress Dean and it won’t send him into your arms or your bed. He’s never looked at another woman since meeting me. I see him getting hit on all the time, yet when I look at him, he’s not looking at them, he’s looking at me and only me. He loves the way I smell. He loves burying his hands in my hair and snogging me silly. He loves winding me up, he loves finding any excuse to touch me and bloody hell, his sex drive has only increased since marrying me.”

She saw a vein about to pop on Jo’s forehead.

“Killing me will send Dean off the deep end and he won’t rest until you’re dead. He’ll hate you. I’ve worked very hard convincing Dean that violence and murder is not always the answer, and now he’s more sympathetic, more logical, he doesn’t make killing his first and only option, but rather his last. I won’t have you turning him into a cold-blooded killer. I won’t have you ruining his life.”

Jo laughed cruelly. “He’d be so much happier with me.”

Hermione couldn’t help it, she looked Jo up and down.

“I don’t think he would. He’s more attracted to brunettes, and he seems to have a thing for curly hair, or at least he does mine. He prefers a petite stature, since he can wrap himself around me whilst we sleep comfortably. You’re pretty, but there’s something not quite right with you. You seem angry, hateful, and despondent. Those are not the qualities Dean likes in a person. He loves that I can make him laugh, that I can verbally spar with him. He loves that I’m British, he sometimes makes me say certain words just because he thinks it’s funny or sexy. And he loves my family and they love him. The children adore him, my brothers and sisters treat him as a sibling and the couple that raised me treat him as their own son.”

“With me, he has a family. He has a life outside of hunting. He has people that love and care for him. He has a home. What would you give him? A dingy bar and a bitchy attitude? If I were dead or alive, Dean would never be with you. He doesn’t love you, he only sees you as a friend. You need to get a handle on your jealousy and leave before Dean gets back. He said he’d be gone no more than an hour, it’s been nearly that. Leave whilst you still can.”

Jo took a deep breath and closed her eyes, appearing to be composing herself, and just when Hermione thought she could relax, Jo struck.

Hermione flung a Sticking Charm at Jo and it slammed into her, sending her flying into the wall, sticking her to the surface as flailed about and screamed, trying to break free.

Hermione sighed in relief before a terrible pain shot through her. She looked down at herself, seeing the blood seeping through her clothing where her stomach was.

She looked up in horror, her wand falling from her grip and bouncing off the ground. Her hands shook as she brought them to her stomach, putting pressure on the bullet wound and trying to stem the bleeding, but she knew it was useless.

The door burst open and she looked up, seeing Dean with two pizza boxes in hand and a crate of beer in the other. His eyes locked on hers before falling down to her stomach, then moving to the gun on the floor and over to Jo flailing around on the wall. His eyes shot her; wide, terrified, horrified.

“I love pie,” Hermione said, before she collapsed to the ground, a pool of blood beginning to surround her.


	92. Chapter 92

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 12

Smashed beer bottles and shattered glass were scattered across the floor.

Pizza boxes were upside down with its contents stuck to the carpet.

A flailing, shouting woman was stuck to the wall, held tightly and magically in place and unable to free herself.

Warm, red blood was pooling and soaking into the carpet.

Dean Winchester held his dying wife propped up against his chest, his legs on either side of her, his arms wrapped around her and his shaking hands pressed tightly together over her stomach in an attempt to stop the bleeding. His head turned slightly with his nose buried against his wife’s neck and curls, tears falling from his eyes and muttering pleading words against her skin.

“Please wake up. Don’t leave me; I need you. You promised me.”

He lifted his head from her neck and looked down at her, seeing her too pale, beautiful face, looking as though she were just sleeping, but he knew differently. He removed one shaking, blood-covered hand from her stomach and brought it up to her face, cupping her cheek and smoothing his thumb over her cheekbone.

“Please wake up,” he begged quietly, staring at her, willing her to do as he asked. But she didn’t.

He closed his eyes tightly, feeling his tears stream down his face and he moved his hand to her neck, checking for a pulse. There wasn’t one. His wife, his beautiful, kind, kick-ass Angel was dead. She had been taken from him. She had been murdered.

A sob tore from him and he let out a shout of anger as he wrapped himself around her and held her against him tightly, burying his head in her hair and rocking them as the scent of blood, caramel and apples invaded his nose.

“What are you doing! She’s dead! You’re free of her now. You should be thanking me!”

Dean’s head moved so fast he made himself dizzy. Through his bleary eyesight, he locked onto Jo, still stuck to the wall but no longer flailing around and trying to break free. She looked angry, victorious, hateful, confused and happy all at the same time.

“What have you done?” He said quietly.

“I freed you,” she replied.

“You killed her, you killed my wife,” he spoke. “Why would you do that? What did she ever do to you?”

“She’s evil, she had you under her spell, but now you’re free and we can finally be together.”

Suddenly something inside of Dean snapped. The shock and grief gave way to anger. Anger like he’d never before felt. Anger that was so overwhelming he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He heard his blood being pumped through his veins. His vision clouded and he felt dizzy.

He tore his eyes away from Jo and looked at his wife. Another tear fell as he closed his eyes and lowered his head, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then one to her lips. He pulled back from her and gently placed her on the ground, before standing up and slowly approaching Jo.

“I knew you’d understand,” she sighed, calming down. “Help me down, would you?” She asked.

Looking at him, her body stiffened and a small gasp fell from her lips upon seeing the dark look in Dean’s eyes and the cold fury that seemed to surround him, the temperature in the room plummeting as if there were a spirit present.

“Dean?” She questioned quietly.

“You killed my wife,” he said emotionlessly, despite the tears still falling and his building anger.

“I saved you from her!” She protested.

“You killed the woman I loved, the woman that saved me and brought me to life.”

“It was the spell, you don’t really love her,” she replied. “It should’ve worn off by now, why hasn’t it?” She thought aloud.

“You killed my Angel,” his voice deepened and darkened, and he took the final step in reaching her. He stood in front of her, with her being held against the wall she was slightly taller than him.

Jo opened her mouth to respond but the only sounds that left her were that of gasps for air, as Dean’s hands suddenly closed around her throat and squeezed tightly, his murderous stare meeting her frightened and panicked gaze; she quickly understood he was going to kill her.

A loud gasp and the sound of a choked sob briefly hit Dean’s ears, but he was too far gone to care. He was only focused on killing the one responsible for taking his Angel from him.

“Fuck...Dean...Let...Go!”

The voice was so familiar to him, but the words seemed to jumble and mix together, making it difficult for him to understand, so he tightened his hold on Jo’s throat, feeling the way her windpipe was being crushed by his hands. Seeing the way her eyes were beginning to water and she desperately tried to gasp for the oxygen he was denying her from having. And it felt good.

“Stop...Kill...Her!”

Kill her? That had already been his intention and with the added encouragement, he tightened his hands around Jo’s neck for the final time.

Hands gripped his shoulders and he felt himself being pulled away from Jo, but his grip on her was too strong. He struggled against the one trying to stop him from killing her, and then arms wrapped around his own, pinning his arms against his body and making it difficult to keep his hold on Jo. With a hard tug, he felt himself being lifted off the ground slightly and he was forced to let go of Jo.

Dean shouted and yelled in anger, struggling to be released by his captor. His feet were placed back on the ground and the arms released him, but before he could rush back over to Jo, hands came up to his face, forcing him to look at his captor. The anger that clouded his vision faded enough for him to see that it was Sam.

Sam had tears of his own welling in his eyes and Dean caught sight of blood on Sam’s shirt and hands. His Angel’s blood.

Dean’s anger returned and he pushed Sam away from him and lunged towards Jo, who was panting as she slowly regained the ability to breathe and Ellen was stood in front of her, her hands on Jo’s face and looking both worried and angry.

Just as Dean was about to push Ellen out of the way, a flash of light blinded his vision and before he could open his eyes, he felt a warm touch against his forehead and he collapsed to the ground.

~000~000~000~

“Cas, get your ass over here, I don’t think she’s got long left!” Sam shouted, kneeled on the ground beside Hermione’s lifeless body and with his fingers pressed to her neck checking for a pulse, whilst also looking horrified, angry and panicked.

Castiel looked down at the unconscious and blood-covered Dean before rushing over to Hermione and he dropped onto his knees beside her. Sam didn’t like the worried frown on Castiel’s face as he pressed two fingers against her forehead.

Castiel was quiet for a few minutes and the room was tense and silent. Sam’s eyes swivelled over to Jo, seeing that Ellen had a hand placed over her mouth to stop her from speaking as she continued to struggle against the wall. Sam quickly surmised that Hermione was responsible for that.

“What did you do?” He asked quietly, looking at her as if he didn’t know who she was. “How could you do this? You knew how much Dean loved Hermione, I warned you to leave them alone, and because of your jealousy and ignorance, you may have cost me my sister and Dean his wife.”

Jo’s struggling increased and Sam nodded at Ellen, letting her know that she should allow Jo to speak.

“He doesn’t love her! It’s the spell; she’s a witch, Sam! Let her die; let Dean be free of her. I did you both a favour, you should be thanking me!” She raged.

Sam shook his head, feeling the tears in his eyes falling and he looked to his brother, seeing the amount of blood that covered his clothing and hands. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain and horror his brother had felt when he’d found Hermione, knowing his own emotions would never compare to the intensity of Dean’s as his relationship with Hermione was more familial, and Dean’s was that of a lover, a partner, a life mate; their minds, bodies and souls entwined.

“I know she’s a witch, and I have never once feared Hermione. She is the kindest, most caring person I have ever met and if she survives this, which I hope for your sake she does, she’s going to the produce the first magical descendents of the Winchester bloodline, and I couldn’t be more proud.”

Jo’s face had twisted and turned an ugly shade of red, whilst Ellen looked to be apologetic, saddened and proud at the same time.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Sam spoke, his own anger beginning to build the more Jo refused to see things for what they truly were. “Hermione is not evil; she’s a true hero and loved by many. She was born the way she is and there’s not a mean bone in her body. If she dies, you won’t only have to worry about Dean. Should he fail to kill you, I’ll make sure I don’t.”

Seeing the way Ellen had seemingly acquired a piece of cloth out of nowhere and tied it around her daughter’s mouth to prevent her from saying something to make the situation worse, Sam turned his eyes back to Hermione. He took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly; begging, praying, hoping, that she could be saved.

“Is she going to be alright?” Sam finally had the courage to ask.

Castiel’s frown deepened and his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“I believe we got to her in time,” Castiel said and Sam sighed in relief, feeling his heart and stomach unclench and his body sag. “A few minutes longer and I would not have been able to heal her; it would have been too late. But yes, she will be fine and....” A groan cut him off, drawing their attention.

Dean slowly woke from his Angel induced sleep, before he bolted upright and his eyes scanned his surroundings, quickly remembering what had happened to his wife. Dean’s eyes snapped to Hermione and tears immediately began to fall, but then he saw something. She was breathing.

He scrambled over to her, ignored everyone in the room and pulled Hermione’s body into his arms, clinging to her tightly and burying his head against her neck as he cried in relief.

“As I was saying, she will be fine and the bullet missed the baby, they’re both healthy.”

Dean’s sobs quieted immediately and his head snapped up, his eyes wide and flickering between Hermione, Castiel and his surprised brother.

“What?” He asked quietly and he wiped his tears away.

Castiel frowned. “The baby is healthy.”

“She’s pregnant?” He questioned, the barrage of emotions within him making his heart race and his head dizzy.

“You didn’t know?” Castiel asked confused.

“She’s pregnant?” Dean repeated louder, seeing the way a smile was beginning to form on Sam’s face.

Castiel blinked. “Yes, she’s pregnant, I would say no more than seven weeks.”

“But she’s had her period twice since she stopped taking pregnancy tests every month.”

“Some women do bleed during pregnancy which is why they don’t know they’re pregnant until further on in the baby’s development. You said she hasn’t taken a test, but if she were to now, it would be positive.”

“Cas, is she really pregnant?” He asked, his voice taking a quiet, breathless tone.

“Yes, what reason would I have for lying?”

Dean took a deep breath and shut his eyes tightly, this time a tear fell but it was a tear of joy. He was going to be a father. All the heartache and disappointment no longer had place in his life, for now, his wife was pregnant and they were going to finally have a child of their own. They had been trying for two years, but now, their dream had finally come true.

“I’m going to be a father,” he whispered, burying his head against Hermione’s neck once more. “Thank you, Angel, you’ve given me yet another reason to always love and protect you, to always be by your side,” he muttered, placing a kiss to her neck and breathing in her scent.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he lifted his head far enough to see Sam smiling at him, and with that smile, Dean knew that Sam was happy for him and he'd support Hermione and Dean whether they wanted or needed that support or not.

“It’s about time, I’d thought Molly would pop another one out before you,” Sam joked.

Dean snorted and wiped away the happy tears.

A second hand on his shoulder drew his attention and he lifted his head fully to lock gazes with Ellen.

“Your wife is pregnant?” Ellen asked.

“So Cas says,” he replied.

“Is this good news?”

“The best I’ve ever received, we’ve been trying for a baby for two years.”

Ellen appeared surprised by the news, but a smile found its way onto her face. “Congratulations, Dean, I have no doubt you’d be a wonderful parent.”

“Hermione wouldn’t let me be anything but, she’d hex me all the way to McGonagall,” he replied. Sam snorted and despite Ellen’s confusion, the smile stayed in place.

“Only you would find yourself married to Hermione Granger, warrior witch and war heroine.”

Dean’s eyes widened.

“She knows, Will’s father was a Squib and he told them of the Wizarding World, she knows of the war and of Hermione, and she’s promised that she’s not going to hurt her,” Sam explained.

“Why would I hurt her? She hasn’t given me any reason to, and it’s thanks to her that we were not forced to face everything Europe did during the magical war. If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. Take it from me, it’s not easy raising a child, but from what I’ve heard regarding your relationships with the children of her family, I’m sure you’ll get through it.”

“Thank you, Ellen. I still can’t believe she’s pregnant. I was beginning to lose hope. I’ve been promising her for years that we’d have a baby but after so long, after so many negative tests, I wasn’t sure I could be strong enough for her. It’s finally happened, we’re having a baby,” he said with a smile.

He caught movement from the corner of his eye and he was suddenly reminded of Jo’s presence, of her being responsible for him not only almost losing his wife, but their child, too. The anger that had faded came back tenfold. He gently placed Hermione back on the ground before standing up and making his way over to Jo.

“You not only nearly cost me my wife, but my unborn child, too!” Dean raged, and just as his hands were about to close around Jo’s throat once more, his arms were pinned to his body and he was being dragged away from her.

“Dean, you can’t, it’s Ellen’s daughter,” Sam spoke, struggling to contain his brother.

“She almost killed my wife and child!” He shouted and doubled his efforts to break free.

Sam turned them and pushed Dean away from him. Dean narrowed his eyes on Jo as his hand made for his pocket with the intention to draw his gun, but Sam grabbed his wrist and pinned it behind his back, followed by the other one.

“Stop it, Dean. You’re angry and I understand that...”

“No, you don’t!”

Sam took a deep breath. “You’re right, I don’t understand, but I’d like to think that I could. Your wife and baby were almost taken from you and you have every right to want to seek revenge, and if this were anyone else I wouldn’t stop you, but this is Ellen’s daughter. If you harm Jo you’ll hurt Ellen, do you want to do that?”

Dean’s struggling paused momentarily before a groan from Hermione entered his ears and Sam wasted no time in releasing his hold on his brother, knowing that for the time being Jo was safe.

“Glinda?” Dean said softly, kneeling beside her and pushing her hair away from her face, his fingers gently tracing over her blood-stained cheek.

“Really, Patrick, you have to come up with something better,” she responded quietly, sounding tired.

A smile pulled at his mouth and when her eyes opened, chocolate brown meeting green, the smile that he only reserved for her made an appearance.

“What happened?” She asked.

“You don’t remember?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Everything’s a little hazy at the moment,” she replied, slowly sitting up and Dean helped her.

“It’s an effect of my healing, your mind will soon clear,” Castiel spoke up.

Hermione turned her head, seeing him sitting on the edge of the bed and looking as calm as he always did, but she knew that if Castiel was there and he had been forced to heal her, it was something bad.

“Castiel?”

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Hungry,” she replied. Sam snorted and Dean glared at him from across the room. “Did you get my pizza? Bacon, chicken, ham and sausage?”

“You honestly don’t remember?” Dean questioned.

She frowned, before turning her eyes to search her surroundings, seeing the blood on the floor and the clothing of herself, Sam and Dean. Seeing the gun on the floor, Ellen and Jo stuck to the wall and gagged. The memories came flooding back.

“She shot me, she tried to kill me,” Hermione spoke. “I tried to talk to her out of it; I tried to get her to leave. I didn’t want to hurt her knowing what it would do to you both.”

“Why didn’t you disarm her?” Sam asked. “I’ve seen you do it with knives plenty of times.”

“I couldn’t risk it; before the spell hit its target she could’ve already pulled the trigger, or the force of the spell could’ve made her pull the trigger as it was being pulled away from her.”

“But she shot you anyway,” Sam said.

Hermione sighed. “I know, I had thought I’d talked some sense into her, but apparently not. I’m surprised the Sticking Charm’s held for so long, but with the adrenaline and fear I had rushing through my body, it likely strengthened the magic.”

“She won’t get away with what she’s done to you,” Dean promised. “I want to kill her but Sam thinks otherwise.”

“And he’s right; despite what she’s done she’s still your friend.”

“She’s no friend of mine, and I never want to see her again.”

“Dean...”

“No, Hermione, you are too kind, too forgiving, but I’m not. I can’t forgive her for what she’s done. She tried to take you both away from me and she nearly succeeded.”

“Both?” Hermione spoke with a frown.

Dean moved closer to her and put his hands on her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then putting his forehead against hers.

“When Cas was healing you, he came across something.”

“And that is?”

He smiled at her and placed a kiss to her mouth, before pulling back and resting a hand against her stomach, knowing there was a baby growing there.

“You’re pregnant.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she shook her head in denial.

“No, I’m not pregnant. You saw it, Dean, I had my period all but a few weeks ago and my next is due in the next few days.”

Dean smiled. “Cas is certain you’re pregnant, he said something about women sometimes having their period during the pregnancy. He reckons you’re seven weeks along.”

She shook her head.

“Have you had any symptoms?” Castiel asked her softly, using that voice from her childhood.

“No,”

“Nausea?”

“No,” she shook her head.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Now that I think about it, you got car sick a couple of weeks ago.”

“That was because of the disgusting slop Dean was eating,” she said.

“Exactly,” he said, moving to sit down at the table.

“Mood swings?” Castiel asked.

“No,” she replied.

Sam snorted. “I beg to differ,”

“Shut it,” she snapped.

“Case and point,” he said smugly as Hermione glared at him.

“Cravings?” Castiel spoke.

“No,” she bit her lip.

“You did say you were craving meat and lots of it,” Dean reminded her.

“No, I said I _fancied_ meat and lots of it.”

“Same thing,” Dean shrugged. “And you seem to have an unnatural obsession with chocolate lately.”

“I’ve always liked chocolate.”

“Yes, but you prefer pie or those sugar quills you’re always eating. I haven’t seen you eat one for weeks.”

“You’re pregnant,” Castiel said. “And from what I can tell, you’re both healthy.”

“I can’t be pregnant,” she said in denial.

“We _are_ pregnant,” Dean said softly.

Tears filled her eyes and before he could do anything, Hermione’s wand was flying across the room and landing in her outstretched hand and she disappeared from sight.

“Where’s she gone?” Ellen asked, blinking in surprise at what she’d just witnessed.

“To the magical hospital,” Dean said knowingly. 

~000~000~000~

Hermione returned not even twenty minutes later and without speaking to anyone, she strode straight to the bathroom. Minutes later she exited and Dean spied several pregnancy tests in her hands, having become familiar with them over the last couple of years.

He stood from his chair and took a few steps towards her. She was staring at the tests in her hands silently, and when hearing his footsteps she looked up, her gaze locking with his.

“What did the healer say?” He asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Pregnant,” she whispered.

“And the tests?”

“Pregnant, all of them.”

“I told you I’d give you a baby if it was the last thing I did, and I said that I had a feeling we’d have a baby soon.”

“You’re going to be a father,” she said quietly, tears beginning to fall from her eyes and making a path down her face.

“And you’re going to be a mother,” he replied with a soft smile.

A sob tore from Hermione and she dropped the pregnancy tests on the ground and ran into his arms. He caught her as she jumped towards him and he stumbled back under the force of the collision. He turned them and sat her on the table before burying his head against her neck and holding her to him just as tightly as she was him.

“We’re having a baby,” she spoke through her cries.

“We are, and I promise you, I will not let anyone hurt you or our baby ever again. I will protect you both to my last dying breath and even then I would continue to do so from the grave. There is no one in this world that I love more than you and our baby.”

She sniffled. “I love you so much that it consumes me. I will not let anyone hurt our baby, should they try they’ll never be seen again.”

He pulled back from her long enough for them to share a quick kiss.

“It makes sense now.”

“What does?” He questioned, wiping away her happy tears and pushing her hair behind her ears.

“The charm on Jo,” she clarified, her eyes darting to the wall where she was still held in place, though she looked to have tired herself out from her struggle to break free. “It wasn’t my emotions that affected the strength of the charm, it was the baby. Witch pregnancies are nothing like muggles. Muggles are carrying a normal baby, witches are carrying a magical baby. A witch’s magic tends to be harder to control and they are known to suffer outbursts due to the baby’s own growing magical signature and aura. Until the baby is born, our magic shares the same body and they will often latch on to each other during spell casting. My magic’s going to be volatile, but it also means that it’s going to be stronger.”

“A magical baby, that’s going to be entertaining. I’ve seen what the children are capable of when they lose their tempers.”

“And now it will be directed at us, fun times,” she said sarcastically.

“Speak for yourself; you’re the one with the magic. It’ll be directed at me.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll protect you from our magical outburst prone child,” she spoke with a smile and he chuckled at her. “We’re having a baby,” she said softly, absentmindedly fiddling with his leather jacket.

“A magical baby,” Dean agreed. “Today is the second best day of my life.”

“Second?” She questioned.

“Hmm, the first being the day we discovered we were married.”

She smiled at him. “We keep this a secret, for now, agreed? As much as I want to tell Bobby and the others, I just want to wait until we’re sure the baby is fine and there is no longer a risk of a miscarriage, or even until I start showing.”

“When’s that?”

“Usually around twelve weeks.”

“It’ll be difficult to keep Sammy from spilling the beans for that long, but I’m sure you have something up your sleeve. You always do.”

“You know me so well,” she smiled, before pushing him away from her and pulling her wand. “I want to show you something.”

He raised an eyebrow until he heard the familiar mutter of the Pregnancy Charm. He had grown used to seeing the dull glow of her wand, but this time it was bright and blinding, filling him with joy and love.

She smiled at him widely. “Congratulations, Mr. Winchester, you succeeded in putting a baby in me,” she spoke.

He snorted at her. “It wasn’t for a lack of trying.”

“I know,” Sam spoke up, looking up from his book from his place sat on the bed beside Castiel. “I was forced to hear it.”

“Stop complaining, if you’d have used your headphones you would’ve been fine.”

“Dean hid them from me in your bag,” he glared at Dean who shrugged.

“You deserved it.”

“I did not!” Sam protested.

“Did too!”

“Children,” Hermione scolded as Molly Weasley would and they both settled immediately.

“I’m happy for you, Hermione,” Sam spoke, turning his eyes to her. “I know how long you’ve wanted a baby and I know how long you’ve been trying. I don’t know anyone that deserves to be a mother more than you, and I know you’ll be the best mother any child could dream of having.”

“Thank you, Sam,” she replied. “Don’t be thinking you’re getting out of nappy duty just because you’re the Uncle.”

“Like you’d let me,” he snorted. “I’m well aware that I have to do my share of the hygiene tasks.”

“Well, at least I don’t have to resort to magical means,” she said lightly. “Now, I’m hungry and tired, so, let’s deal with this.”

Hermione hopped off the table and approached Jo, with a flick of her wand the cloth disappeared from her mouth, but she didn’t speak.

“I did warn you that killing me would not win you Dean. He loves me of his own free will. Yes, I’m a witch but I was born the way I am. There is a whole secret world of others like me where we hide from those without magic for our safety and to protect our families, our lives and the secret of true born magic. I am not a dark witch. There is no such thing as a Love Spell. I love Dean and he loves me. We’ve been trying for a baby for two years and we’ve just discovered that I’m pregnant, you not only tried to kill me, but in doing so our child, too. That is not something I am going to take lightly. So, for that reason, I am going to release you from the charm and allow Dean to do whatever he wishes as long as he doesn’t kill you.” Hermione flung a _Silencio_ at her, preventing her from voicing her angry tirade. “You’ve done enough talking tonight.”

Hermione stepped back and removed the charm from Jo and she fell to the ground in am ungraceful heap. Dean pulled a gun from his pocket and approached Jo, seeing the fear and the anger in her eyes as Dean aimed the gun at her.

“This is for my wife and my child,” he spoke, before pulling the trigger twice.

One bullet going into her shoulder, the second into her knee. Jo cried in pain but she couldn’t be heard and Ellen had silent tears falling down her face, but she didn’t interfere, knowing that it was justified, knowing that Jo deserved it, and knowing that Jo would live and she’d gotten off lightly. If the roles were reversed, she’d never let someone off as lightly as Hermione had. 

Castiel made to stand and heal Jo, but Dean stopped him. “Not yet, I want her to feel the pain and fear Hermione felt. I want her to feel the pain she put me through upon seeing my wife’s dead body, I can’t do it emotionally so physically will have to do. You can heal her when she’s at risk of dying,” Dean said.

Castiel looked to Sam who nodded in agreement.

“Now, my beautiful wife that is carrying our undoubtedly perfect child, let’s get you that pizza you’ve been craving.”

“And chocolate cake?” Hermione asked hopefully.

Dean grinned. “An entire chocolate cake,” he nodded.

“And a banoffee muffin?”

“I’ll search the earth until I find one, my beautiful pregnant wife.”


	93. Chapter 93

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 12

After Hermione quickly cleaned Dean and Sam of her blood, she disappeared into the bathroom and exited minutes later, blood-free and wearing clean clothes. She grabbed her leather jacket and slipped it on before taking Dean’s outstretched hand and he pulled her out of their motel room with Sam following after them, leaving Castiel, Ellen and Jo alone.

Sam slid into the back and Hermione quickly filled the passenger’s seat, her feet immediately finding purchase on Dean’s lap once he’d climbed into the driver’s side and they set off on their journey.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sweetheart?” He said, turning to smile at her widely, his eyes flickering between her face and her stomach and she felt her stomach flutter and her heart skip a beat at the loving look on his face.

“I don’t want pizza anymore,” she said, looking guilty.

Sam snorted from the back seat. “Here we go,” he muttered in amusement, but they chose to ignore him.

“What would you like?”

She bit her lip, apparently in thought. “I can’t decide between chicken pot pie or cheeseburgers.”

“Then we’ll get you both,” he said without argument.

~000~000~000~

Dean’s eyes scanned the menu in front of him, searching the contents and he frowned when he didn’t see chocolate fudge cake on the menu. Now that just wouldn’t do. His beautiful, pregnant wife wanted chocolate fudge cake and he would make sure she got it.

Deciding what he wanted and already knowing Sam’s order as well as Hermione’s, Dean stood from his place sat beside Hermione and walked away from the booth and over to the counter. The diner was quite busy and would likely take a while for a server to get to them, so he went to them instead. He stood patiently waiting for the older woman behind the counter to get to him.

“What can I get you?” She asked with a kind smile and pulling a pen and notepad out of her apron.

“I’ll take a chicken pot pie, a cheeseburger and fries with onion rings, chicken soup and grilled cheese, and a double bacon cheeseburger with fries.”

The old woman blinked and quickly wrote down the order.

“Anything else?”

“Just three sodas,” he replied. She muttered to herself as she wrote it down. “I don’t suppose you have any chocolate fudge cake, do you?”

“We don’t offer that, I’m sorry.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “Is there any way you can help me out? We’ve just discovered my wife’s pregnant and she’s craving chocolate fudge cake, I promised I’d get her one.”

“Congratulations,” the woman smiled. “Where is she?”

Dean proudly pointed her out and the woman peered over the heads of the customers sat at the counter to see Hermione laughing loudly along with Sam.

“Over there, and that’s my idiot brother,” he beamed.

“She’s beautiful, your first child?”

“How’d you know?”

She chuckled. “You remind me of my husband, he was the same with our first child. Well, you get back to your family and I’ll see what I can have our chefs cook up for you.”

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver,” he said, smiling at the woman and making his way back over to Hermione, taking his seat and putting his arm around her shoulders. “Shouldn’t be too long now,” he told her.

~000~000~000~

Just as they were finishing up their meals, Dean spied the old woman making her way over to the table and with a tray held in her hand.

“Here we go, Dears, just as you ordered. One chocolate fudge cake with all the trimmings.”

Dean blinked in surprise as the tray was placed in the centre of the table. He’d been expecting a simple chocolate cake at best, but the woman had gone all out. There was still steam coming off the cake and it was accompanied by some vanilla ice-cream, chocolate ice-cream and squirty cream.

He looked up to the woman and she smiled kindly and winked at him.

“Well, enjoy,” she said, giving them a smile and turning and leaving them alone.

“Merlin,” Hermione whispered.

She stared lovingly at the food in front of her and she pulled the tray closer to herself and when she turned it around, she saw ‘Congratulations’ written in chocolate sauce across the tray.

She turned her eyes to Dean, looking to be on the verge of crying. Before he could blink Hermione had wrapped herself around him so tightly, it was hard for him to breathe.

“I only wanted a slice of chocolate fudge cake, but you got me an _entire_ cake, vanilla _and_ chocolate ice-cream and cream, too. You are the best husband in the world,” she whispered into his neck.

“Only the best for you, you deserve it after everything you do for me. You’ve been taking care of me since we met, now it’s my turn to take care of you,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her.

She pulled back from him and immediately picked up a spoon and tucked into the cake, not bothering to use the knife to cut it into slices. Sam didn’t bother hiding his snort as he picked up a spoon and started working on the vanilla ice-cream.

Sam narrowed his eyes on her. “Are you crying?” He asked.

“No,” she said quickly, wiping at her eyes.

“God, you are crying!“

She sniffled. “Fine, I’m crying. I just really love cake,” she said, sniffling.

Sam sniggered as Dean slung his arm over her shoulders and pulled her into him. “Whatever you don’t eat, we’ll have it wrapped up and we’ll take it with us.”

“As if there’s going to be anything left; her appetite before was through the roof, now she’s pregnant it’s going to be worse. She was already eating for four. Ow!” Sam scowled, rubbing at his shin where Hermione had kicked him under the table.

Dean chuckled as Hermione glared at Sam and stuffed another spoonful of cake into her mouth.

~000~000~000~

“Now that everyone’s been fed and we’re all calm, let’s deal with this situation properly, no guns, no knives and no flying fists.”

“Why are you looking at me?” Dean asked Sam, as they all stood outside the door to Hermione and Dean’s motel room.

“Despite Hermione being the one that’s pregnant, you’re more hormonal than she is,” he replied.

Hermione couldn’t help it, she laughed. “He’s not going to do anything.”

“You don’t know that,” Sam said.

“I do, you’re forgetting, I control his sex life,” she said, before opening the door and striding inside, leaving behind Sam and his grimace.

As Hermione stepped into the room with the brothers behind her, her eyes scanned her environment, seeing that Castiel was no longer present but that Ellen was sat on one of the chairs at the table, and Jo was sat in the other, tied to the chair and with a gag over her mouth, but other than that, she was completely fine.

Hermione’s eyes fell to the floor and upon seeing the large amount of blood, her hands automatically came up to cradle her stomach and she stared horrified. Dean came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, his hands resting on top of hers.

“You gave me a fright, Glinda,” he muttered, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I almost lost you both.”

“I would never leave you,” she said quietly, still staring at the bloodstain. “You’d go off the deep end.”

“And the rest,” he agreed. He placed a kiss to her neck and she sighed, closing her eyes.

“I’m tired, I’ll see what I can do about the stain in the morning. I’ll be right back.”

She pulled away from him and disappeared into the bathroom, her eyes locked on Jo the entire time. When she exited her hair was tied up in a mess on top of her head and she was dressed in nothing but one of his shirts. Whether it was for him, because they were comfortable for her to sleep in or to rub Jo’s nose in it, he didn’t know and he didn’t care.

His eyes followed her as she clambered up onto the bed and burrowed under the covers, laying down and getting comfortable, not caring that Ellen and Jo were still there. Dean disappeared into the bathroom and returned before moving to sit beside Hermione on the bed. She immediately turned towards him, resting her head against his chest and sighing happily when he wrapped his arm around her and he kissed her forehead. Sam stood by the bed, leaning against the wall with his arms across his chest and watching Jo carefully, seeing the clear look of disgust and anger on her face.

“Let’s get this over with,” Dean spoke. “We’ve been through a lot these last few hours and Hermione needs her sleep. Since you’re the reason I almost lost my wife and child, she needs to get plenty of rest.”

It would be easy to mistake Dean for being calm, but to Sam and Hermione who knew him, they both knew it was a front for the anger that was still bubbling below the surface. What Jo had done, it was the kind of damage Dean would never be able to forgive.

“So, Jo, I don’t know what’s going on with you and I don’t care. You had a shot with me years ago and you turned me down, that’s not my fault. You have no right or reason to be jealous or angry. My wife may be a witch, but that doesn’t mean I love her any less. I couldn’t be any prouder of her magic. It’s saved our asses more times than I can count. It’s saved the lives of more people than I can count. It makes our lives easier, simpler. It offers us another form of protection and offence. Ellen will tell you everything you need to know about Hermione and the truth of her magic, and once she does, you’re going to realise just how lucky you are she never died.”

Jo’s cold gaze was locked on his and she was glaring daggers.

“I’m not under the influence of any form of magic. My feelings are my own. I love Hermione. It was my decision to ask her to marry me. I would kill for her and I would die for her. You need to get that into your head. I let you live this time, but if any harm comes to her or our child and you are behind it, there won’t be anyone or thing capable of saving you.” He held her gaze for a moment longer, before turning his eyes to Ellen. “Ellen? I think it’s best you get her home.”

Ellen nodded and stood, moving to untie her daughter and she removed the gag from around her mouth, and with a warning look to Jo, she thankfully remained silent.

“We’ll be heading out tomorrow, we’ll try and come by before we leave,” Sam spoke. “I’ll take you home. I need to pick up the Impala anyway.”

Sam said his goodnight’s to Hermione and Dean before leaving out the door, Ellen pushing Jo out of the door and Hermione summoned her wand and locked the door behind them. Dean wasted no time in quickly stripping down to his boxers and slipping under the covers.

Hermione frowned in confusion when he pulled the blanket down to her hips, before he shuffled further down the bed, lifted her t-shirt and pressed his ear to her stomach. Her heart fluttered and she felt a smile pull at her mouth. She lifted her hand and ran it through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp and hearing his sigh of happiness.

“We’re having a baby,” he spoke.

“We are,” she agreed softly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy,” he muttered.

“Me either,” she replied. “My life since meeting you has been filled with danger, adventure, crying, laughter, love, illness, injuries, kidnapping, death, but I wouldn’t change any of it. I know what it feels like to love someone and to be loved in return. I’m happy and it’s all because of you.”

“I love pie,” he said.

“I love pie, too.”

“And I love our baby,” he spoke, turning his head slightly to place a kiss to her flat stomach, which would soon begin to grow to accommodate the growth of their child. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt either of you.”

“I know, you were protective of me before, I can only imagine it being magnified now,” she said, sounding both amused and exasperated at the knowledge.

“You know what this means, right?”

She sighed and nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“You’re benched from now on; they’re so many things that can go wrong in our line of work and we can’t risk it. Things are going to be a little more difficult now that we no longer have your magic when it comes to working in the field, but we’ll manage. Sammy and I will handle the dangerous side, you can handle research and support.”

“Normally I’d argue with you, but I know you’re right. We’ve been waiting a long time for a baby of our own, and I’m not going to take any risks, especially with me being so early on in my pregnancy. But now that I’m pregnant, we need to start thinking about the future.”

“Meaning?”

“We spoke about buying some land and having a house built, we’ve got eight months to get it all sorted and ready for the baby coming and there’s so much to do. We have to view potential purchases, we need to hire a magical contractor and architect, we need to supernatural and magic proof the property, and we need to purchase furniture for the new house, we need to decide on colour choices, we need to get the nursery ready and prepare some of the elves for moving. I don’t doubt Mimsy and Mittens will be adamant that they move with us. We need to start thinking about what we’ll do when I get too far along in my pregnancy that I won’t want to travel. Do I stay home whilst you and Sam continue hunting until the baby comes? Do you both take a temporary break until the baby comes? When the baby comes do we still travel and hunt, or do we only take cases that are nearby? And...”

“Glinda, take a breath and relax,” Dean interrupted. “We have plenty of time to think this all through now that we know you’re pregnant.”

She sighed. “I suppose you’re right. In-between hunts we can view any listings the realtor finds for us, and when you boys are out in the field having all the fun, I can start making plans to have the house built to stop myself from worrying about you. We’ll need a big kitchen and dining room, potions lab, and of course a library and armoury, a living room and at least five bedrooms, possibly more.”

“Why?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, there’s us, Sam and the baby to start with.”

“Sam?”

She frowned. “Of course, Sam. You don’t honestly think I’m not going to let him live with us, do you? We’re family and he can stay with us as long as he wishes. If in the future he finds someone and they get married and have kids like us, he’ll move out, but until then he stays with us where I can keep an eye on him and where I know he’s safe. Anyway, if we’re planning on having more than one child we’re going to need more bedrooms, plus we have to take into account everyone back in England. They’ll want to visit and we can’t have the kids if we don’t have extra bedrooms for when they stay. And we’ll need a room for Bobby too.”

“Bobby?” He asked amused.

“Of course, Bobby, he’s not getting any younger and sooner or later he’s going to need someone to take care of him. I don’t like that he lives alone, it’s not good for his health. I can’t trust that he’s taking care of himself, but if he were with us, then I’d know and I wouldn’t worry about him so much.”

“Does Bobby know you’re planning to move Bobby in with us?”

“Not yet,” she replied and he laughed at her.

“He’ll shoot you.”

“No, he won’t; he’s scared of me, he just hides it better than you and Sam. We’re all going to be together in a safe and loving environment and we’re going to raise our children to be the best they can be. Our children are never going to know what it feels like to be alone or scared or unloved.”

“You hear that, you’re already the most loved child in the world,” Dean spoke to her stomach and she couldn’t help but giggle. “I think we’re having a boy.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“I can feel it.”

“You can feel it?” She questioned amused.

“I can feel we’re having a boy, I think I’m psychic.” She snorted at him. “I am, I said back at The Roadhouse I could feel we were going to have a baby soon, and a few hours later we find out you’re pregnant. I’m psychic.”

“If you say so,” she chuckled.

~000~000~000~

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dean asked her as they sat in the parked Impala outside of The Roadhouse the next morning.

“Yes, I need to run a few diagnostic spells to see whether my suspicions are correct or not,” she replied.

“Jo’s not going to let you anywhere near her.”

“Not while she’s awake at least. I called for Mimsy when you went for breakfast. She brought me a mild Sleeping Draught. We’ll get Ellen to slip it into Jo’s drink and I’ll run the tests when she’s sleeping.”

“Do you think you can help her?” Sam asked from the back seat.

“I won’t know until I see the results.”

“Well, let’s get this over with then.”

They all climbed out of the car and made their way into the bar, seeing that Ellen was already waiting for them.

“Place three drops into her drink and she’ll be out within minutes,” Hermione said, handing over the potion vial.

“And this won’t hurt her?” Ellen asked, eyeing the potion in her hand distrustfully.

“No, it’s only a mild Sleeping Draught, if you give her the amount I specified she’ll be out no more than sixty minutes. She’ll wake up completely fine and without issue.”

Ellen eyed Hermione cautiously before nodding and she disappeared into the room behind the bar. The Winchesters each took a seat at the bar and they didn’t have to wait long until Ellen called for them.

Dean led the way into the kitchen and they entered to see Jo slumped over in her chair and across the table. Hermione quickly set to work, muttering and mumbling to herself as she waved her wand in intricate motions and different coloured lights appeared. A worried Ellen looked to see both Dean and Sam looking completely at ease at the display in front of them.

“We’re used to it,” Sam shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. “We’ve been around her and her magical world for two years now. It’s normal for us.”

~000~000~000~

A worried look crossed Dean’s face and he made his way over to Hermione, taking her face in his hands and his gaze locking with hers. She smiled at him tiredly and lifted her hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead.

“I’m fine,” she said. “The spells I was casting aren’t known for their simplicity and they take a lot of out of you. It’s been a while since I’ve had to cast anything even remotely similar to the tests I’ve just run, that coupled with my pregnancy’s tired me out a little.”

“What’d you find?” Sam piped up, causing Hermione to turn away from Dean and Dean to glare at him before he pulled a chair out from the table and guided Hermione onto the seat.

“As I explained this morning, last night I was able to detect a strange aura surrounding Jo and I was unsure of what it was, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Castiel noticed it, too. I cast several diagnostic charms which have come back positive for Jo being infected by darkness.”

“What!” The three Hunters spluttered.

“Jo’s infected by darkness,” she repeated. “It’s not surprising given everything that’s happened over the last few years. It’s my understanding that during your time helping to stop the apocalypse, Jo came dangerously close to death.”

“Yes, but she pulled through,” Ellen replied.

“Well, I don’t think she came dangerously close to death. I think she actually died.”

“What?”

“It’s my belief that she died and before she was resuscitated, there was a small window of opportunity for the darkness that was happening during the apocalypse to set in. The darkness will change Jo’s personality, change the way she thinks, the way she feels and the way she acts. Like her anger and jealousy towards my marriage to Dean, her decision to steal the keys to the Impala and to track us down at our motel. I have the feeling she had planned on killing me anyway, even before she discovered I was a witch. Her anger, her hatred, her malice, it’s not her fault. The darkness feeds off hateful, cold and negative thoughts and emotions and it will twist and magnify anything Jo is feeling, pushing her to breaking point, pushing her to do dark things,” she explained, and she knew what she was talking about, having experienced something similar herself when she came into contact with Voldemort’s Horcruxes.

“Is there anything you can do?” Ellen asked, looking to her daughter horrified.

“Not me, this is more supernatural than magical, but I can get my hands on a talisman that will help to ward off the darkness that surrounds her. Castiel’s the only one that can remove it from within her, but it’ll take some time to get a hold of him, he’s a pain in the arse that way. He only shows up if someone’s dying. You’ll notice a big change within Jo once she starts wearing the talisman. I’ll contact my brother, Bill, he can get his hands on one for us.”

~000~000~000~

”Well, aside from your deranged daughter trying to kill my wife, it’s been good to see you.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Ellen warned.

“We’ll try, but we’re going to be busy for a while. With Hermione finally being pregnant we’re a Hunter down in the field and we have to focus on her safety and the baby’s future.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about, you’re going to be a good dad,” Ellen said.

“I hope so, and remember, Hermione’s identity and pregnancy stays a secret.”

“I’ll keep Jo under control, she won’t tell anyone.”

“I was going to have Hermione wipe her mind, but she said there was no point. The likely hood of Jo discovering her secret in the future was still there.”

“Well she’s right, now, off you go; they’re waiting for you.”

Dean hugged Ellen one last time before exiting the bar and making his way to the Impala, climbing into the driver’s side and starting their journey.

“Dean, why are you doing thirty in a fifty mile an hour zone?” Sam asked, peering over his brother’s shoulder to look at the speedometer.

“I’m not risking it,” he replied.

“Risking what?” Sam frowned.

Dean’s eyes flickered down to Hermione’s stomach and then back the road.

“Oh, for Heaven’s Sake,” Hermione sighed. “I’m pregnant, the speed of a moving vehicle is not going to affect me in any way.”

“I’m not risking it,” he repeated.

“Oh, I suppose I won’t be allowed to carry my own bloody bag either.”

“You won’t be doing any heavy lifting or running for your life.”

“Put your foot down, it’s not going to hurt us, it’ll just take us longer to get there and I’m already starting to feel hungry.”

“Then we’ll stop for food when we see the next store, diner or gas station. I’m not risking it.”

“And so it begins,” Sam muttered, leaning back against the leather seat and listening to Hermione and Dean bicker.


	94. Chapter 94

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 8

**Two months later...**

Hermione woke to the feel of light kisses being placed against her growing stomach. She opened her eyes to see Dean staring lovely at her small baby bump, showcasing their growing child that they had waited so long for.

Hermione was now four months pregnant, and Castiel had been quite accurate regarding her pregnancy when he told them, she had been exactly seven weeks to the day. Although she did have a baby bump, it was only noticeable when she wore tight clothing. Since her body was growing to accommodate the growth of their child, she had taken to wearing Dean’s t-shirts more often than not, since they were comfortable and baggy. Not that he minded that she was always stealing his clothes.

She didn’t know how, but no one had discovered she was pregnant, which meant that Ellen had kept her word in keeping Jo in control and even Sam had kept his big mouth shut and not revealed their secret, and that in itself was a miracle.

Over the last two months, The Winchesters had gone about business as usual, travelling, taking cases and dealing with the supernatural, only now Hermione was not allowed in the field, she was merely there for support and research. When the brothers were out, breaking and entering and looking over crime scenes, Hermione was going over newspapers and using Sam’s laptop, trying to dig up information on the victims, though Sam was better at it than she was, especially when it came to hacking into police records. If the brothers were busy in the field or at the morgue, she would interview the victims’ families and friends and record everything of importance. She was still a valuable member of the team, only now she was far away from the dangerous side of the job, just the way Dean liked it.

Since discovering they were pregnant, Dean had become far more protective of her than Hermione ever thought possible and it was difficult for her to balance her reactions to him. Sometimes he was unbelievably sweet that she cried, and other times he was so annoying that she wanted to hex him, and she had, several times. 

If she were craving something, he would do everything he could in order to get it for her. In one instance, she had been craving a McDonald’s and Dean had driven almost two hundred miles to the nearest establishment just to get her one. They had stopped at a diner and Hermione had been craving lasagne, and despite it not being on the menu, he had somehow convinced them to make one especially for her. Dean had been in the middle of an interview with a police officer, posing as an FBI Agent, when Hermione had texted him, asking him to pick up some chocolate ice-cream on the way back. Not even twenty minutes later he arrived at their motel room, handed her the carton, kissed her on the forehead and quickly left, returning to the interview.

When her morning sickness had set in, Dean was always beside her, rubbing her back and holding her hair back from her face. When she cursed him and shouted at him, he took it all in stride and never once got angry or annoyed. When her mood swings were in full force, he comforted her when she cried and made her laugh when she was sad. This was the sweet Dean she liked.

The overprotective Dean, not so much.

He still refused to drive above thirty miles an hour, no matter what the speed limit said and he’d even gotten in a fight with another driver at one point, breaking his nose before Hermione stepped in and wiped the guy’s memory. It caused arguments between the brothers when Sam would stick to the limit and Dean would threaten him for driving too fast. If they were walking down the street and someone accidentally bumped into her, she had to physically restrain him from punching someone in the face.

She wasn’t allowed to carry her own bags. They stopped at a store once, in order for Hermione to restock on wash products and some food items, and they’d gotten into an argument in the middle of the car park, since Dean had taken both shopping bags from her, despite it meaning he had to carry several himself.

When they were in a diner or they got take out, Dean wouldn’t let Hermione eat until he had tried the food first, making sure it wasn’t undercooked or that it tasted or smelled funny. Hermione had caught him doing research on Sam’s laptop, where’d he discovered the dangers of salmonella to pregnant women. He was a bloody nightmare when it came to meat dishes.

But, putting all that aside, they were happy.

They had recently just finished a case, a simple salt and burn that hadn't been so simple at all, and ended with Sam getting stabbed with a fire poker. Both brothers had headaches by the time Hermione had finished screeching at them whilst she tended to his injuries.

For the last two months, they had gone from case to case and had yet to have a break, and finally, they were taking a respite, and the brothers agreed it was mostly for Hermione. They stopped overnight at their motel and rather than driving back to the Cambridge Apartment, Hermione was going to call for Mimsy to pick them up.

“Morning,” Dean mumbled, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Morning,” she smiled down at him, lifting her hand to run through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly and hearing him sigh.

“How’s my boy doing?” He asked her.

She rolled her eyes. “Just fine, and we could be having a girl.”

“It’s a boy, I’m psychic.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Face it, you married a psychic.”

“More like a psycho,” she scoffed, before breaking out into laughter when Dean tickled her ribs until tears were leaking from her eyes and she begged him to stop.

“What time do you want to leave?” He asked.

“Straight after breakfast, we’ve got a lot to get through before we return from respite. We have an appointment at the doctor’s surgery at eleven o’clock and once we’re done there, I’ll work my magic so no one remembers. We have a meeting with the realtor at two o’clock, we’re going to start the viewing process. Whilst you and Sam have been out in the field, I’ve been in contact with the realtor, I’ve already given him our list of preferences and essentials, and he’s informed me he’s found thirty possible locations.”

“Thirty?” He asked surprised.

She nodded. “Yes, though this was last week, he could‘ve very well found more. We’re sticking to the Muggle World, there’s a lot less paperwork involved and it’s cheaper. That’s not to say the house won’t be magical, because it will, it’s being built by magical contractors after all. If we see a property we like and we decide we absolutely won’t like another, then we don’t have to visit the rest. You never know, we might find the right place for us today. If not, we have more visits scheduled for the rest of the week until our respite is over. Once we’ve found a property, I already have the contractors on standby and a contract has already been signed. I’ve been doing some furniture shopping online and I’ve bookmarked a few items on Sam’s laptop, which is why he’s been a little bit moody lately. I’ve been looking at ideas for the nursery and I’ve seen a few that are actually quite nice. Whether we imitate it or come up with our own design, I don’t know yet and won’t until we see the completed house. We need to get this all done as soon as possible, which is why I’ve sent off a rough design to the contractors and I’ve been in contact with some decorators and curse-breakers, so they can place wards around the property, the same that're on all of my other properties, including the _Fidellius_ , that one is really handy, especially if a demon is stupid is enough to come looking for us.”

Dean blinked. “You really have been busy,” he said surprised.

~000~000~000~

“Mrs. Winchester, please lift your shirt and unbutton your jeans and lay back on the bed,” the woman instructed, as she fiddled with one of the screens in the room.

Dean’s eyes were trained on her stomach, a smile pulling at his mouth, before he looked up, his eyes locking on the screen and searching for their baby. It was a few seconds before it came into view, and he felt a wide smile pull at his face at seeing their baby for the first.

“Alright, Mrs. Winchester, I estimate you to be four months along and from what I can see, there are no problems. You have a healthy baby.”

Dean and Hermione’s eyes locked on each other, Dean took her hand in his and leaned over to kiss her temple when he saw her smiling widely and with tears falling down her face.

“We’re having a baby,” she whispered to him.

“We are, a little boy.”

“It’s could be a girl,” she replied.

“It’s a boy, I’m psychic, I know these things.”

“You’re an idiot,” she corrected, turning her head back to the woman when she heard her chuckle.

“I assume you wish to have a copy of the scan,” she spoke, smiling when Hermione and Dean both nodded instantly. “Then I’ll just print you a copy.”

Dean and Hermione turned back to each other.

“Now that we know the baby’s healthy, do you want to tell Bobby and the others? I’m not sure how much longer we can keep this a secret, we haven’t visited anyone in months,” Dean asked her.

Hermione bit her lip. “Not yet, I just want to make sure there is no danger of anything going wrong with the pregnancy. Miscarriages are still possible up to the five month mark. I don’t want to jinx it by telling everyone I’m pregnant and then suddenly something goes wrong.”

“Alright, we’ll wait till then,” he agreed, squeezing her hand in his.

~000~000~000~

“No, I don’t like it,” Hermione spoke, her arms crossed over her chest and standing beside Dean, after they'd just viewed the tenth property of the day.

Dean was amazed that the realtor was so calm about her constant rejections, but he supposed if he’d worked with Hermione in the past, he was used to her. Dean couldn’t find any faults with any of the properties they’d visited so far, he wouldn’t have minded any of them, but Hermione was having none of it and she was very picky.

She had rejected a property because she didn’t like the layout of the grounds being round, rather than the regular square or rectangle shape. She had rejected a property because she didn’t like the colour of the grass, because she didn’t like the entrance to the land and because she didn’t like the hills blocking the view of the sunset.

Dean thought she was being a tad too fussy, but he didn’t comment. She was nesting, he had read up about it and he didn’t want to get in her way of finding the perfect place for them to raise their family.

“Shall we do one more and return to viewing tomorrow?” The realtor asked and Hermione nodded.

~000~000~000~

“This is it. This is the one,” Hermione spoke quietly, her eyes closed and with a smile pulling at her mouth.

“We’ve only just got here, we haven’t even had a tour yet,” Dean said amused.

“I can feel it,” she replied, her smile slowly growing wider.

Dean looked around, his eyes searching their surroundings and so far all he could see was a thickly wooded area. They weren’t exactly in the middle of nowhere since there was a fairly busy highway nearby, but according to the realtor, the property they were looking at was hidden from view. Unless you knew it was there, you would be none the wiser, and with the thick coverage of the woods, he believed him. That just gave them an extra layer of protection.

“And how are we supposed to access the property if it’s hidden from view?” He asked.

Much to his surprise, the realtor flicked his wand and the trees parted, revealing a dirt road. A well-hidden dirt road.

“If you were to purchase this land, it would take approximately ten minutes in a car to reach the house.”

“House?” Hermione spoke, opening her eyes and a questioning look held on her face.

“Yes, there’s a rundown house in the centre of the land. I know you originally wished to build your own home, but you may have the house renovated in half the time. You can start development as soon as the property is purchased.”

“What does the property and lands include?” Hermione asked him, slipping her hand into Dean’s.

“Fifty acres of land consisting of the woods you now see, a meadow on the other side of the property along with a small pond, and plenty of fields, more than enough room to build excess buildings and for children to grow and play safely. There is a traditional manor house that requires a lot of work as it is no longer structurally sound, but that can be soon rectified. There are also two separate garages and a storage facility.”

“And the asking price?” Hermione asked.

“The asking price is just under five hundred thousand.”

Dean made a noise of surprise in the back of his throat. Hermione couldn’t possibly be considering it. He turned his eyes to her, seeing her nodding, not looking the least bit surprised.

“I thought it would be somewhere near that. Are they willing to go lower on their asking price?”

“They are willing to lower their asking price to four hundred and fifty-five thousand if you were to purchase this property and payment is made by the end of the week.”

“Sounds fair,” she nodded.

Dean blinked and stared at her. Was she out of her mind?

“Can we see the rest of the property?”

“It’ll be difficult to show you around the grounds since they haven’t been tended to in years, but I do have photographs that you may look through.”

He shuffled through the files in his hand, before pulling out several photographs and handing them to Hermione and she tilted them so he could see, too.

There was an aerial photo of a meadow filled with brightly coloured flowers, an aerial photo of the fields filled with green grass and small flowers, along with an aerial photo of the woods, seeing that it seemed to stretch for miles, hiding the existence of everything behind it.

“Can we see the house?” Hermione asked.

“Of course, but I can’t allow you to get too close to it for safety reasons.”

“I understand, I just want to see what we have to work with.”

The realtor shuffled the files in his hands and placed them into his briefcase, before taking Hermione by the wrist and he spun on his heel, apparating the three of them to the house.

As soon as they landed Hermione had to hold her breath to stop herself from throwing up. The baby really didn’t like apparating.

She looked up at the house and Dean heard her gasp and he could see why. Despite the house looking like something they’d investigate in one of their cases, it was massive, and it would need a lot of work.

He’d guess it to be three floors, possible four with an attic. The porch and steps had rotted, along with the wooden window panes and the door. Almost all of the windows were shattered and broken, part of the roof had caved in and bricks were crumbling or missing. Grass that was in dire need of cutting, had grown tall and was hugging the house tightly, with some flowers and weeds dotted about. He didn’t even want to imagine the nasty things that would be living in there. He couldn’t imagine ever being able to get the house habitable and safe to raise a family, especially in such little time. They only had five months at best. It would be too much stress on Hermione if it still wasn’t complete when she entered her last month of pregnancy. But despite his concerns, Hermione seemed to see something in the house he didn’t. Her eyes had lit up and a large smile was on her face.

“Do you know the layout of the house?” She asked the realtor.

He nodded in reply, before digging papers out of his briefcase and his eyes scanning the words in front of him. “A kitchen and dining room, an office, four bedrooms with the master bedroom having an en-suite bathroom, two bathrooms and an attic.”

“May I have a moment to speak with my husband?”

“Of course, I’ll just be over here if you need me,” he replied, before walking away from them, allowing them privacy.

Hermione turned to face Dean and she looked up at him, her hand held in his and the other subconsciously resting against her stomach, making Dean’s mouth twitch at the sight.

“What do you think?” She asked him.

He shrugged. “It’s everything we wanted. There’s no neighbours, so there’s no risk of anyone witnessing all the crazy things that’ll be happening. We might be near a highway but we’re well hidden so no one will even know we’re here. Even with all the supernatural and magical protection we’ll have, that gives us another layer of security. There’s plenty of room for the children to play, especially when the others decide they want to visit. There’s even a house that can be fixed up. I don’t mind where we are as long as we’re together. I’ve never been concerned with luxury and other things like that. All I want is for you to be happy, and if you think this is the place we should raise our family, then I’ll be more than happy to do so. This is all about you and what you want; I’m just here for support.”

She bit her lip in thought. “I really like this place. The moment we arrived I got a feeling, a feeling of peace, of home. I think this could be it. I’m just a little concerned about the house. It gives us a starting point rather than building from scratch, but I don’t know if it would be worth it. I don’t know if it would be too much hassle to have to renovate it, I don’t even know if it can be saved, or if it would be easier to just pull it down and start over. We’d have to get the contractors over and get their opinions on the matter. These guys renovated the Cambridge Apartment, the London Apartment and the beach house in Costa Rica, they know what they’re doing and I trust them, but we’re on a deadline now,” she sighed.

“If they decide they’re able to fix it up, they’ll have to put an extension in, and a fairly large one. The house only has four bedrooms; we’re going to need more than that, and we need room for my potions lab, my library, the hunting library and the armoury. We do have the added bonus of there already being a garage on the property, so you can keep Baby in there.” She tore her eyes away from him so they could sweep around their surroundings once more.

“And you’re right about there being more than enough space for the children to run around and explore, we’ll have to ward the whole property to ensure they can’t stumble onto the highway. And with the space we have, I suppose we can have a treehouse built in the woods, and a small park area on the property. And the pond, we can have it emptied and built bigger, so the children can play in it in the summer.”

“You sound like you’ve already got your mind made up. If we were to view other properties, do you think you’d find one you liked better than this?” He asked her.

“No,” she said immediately and without thought. “I can’t just ignore my feelings or instincts, they’ve never led me astray. I really like this place, and once it’s all done up and we’re ready to move in, I have the feeling I’ll love it. I can see us raising our family here.”

“Me too,” he agreed, gaining a beaming smile from Hermione in which her eyes lit up and she wrapped herself around him tightly in a hug, which he was quick to return. “I’m just unsure if it’s worth it for the price they’re asking,” he commented.

“It is,” she assured him. “And they’ve agreed to knock forty-five thousand off their asking price should they receive payment by the end of the week. I can have it arranged for them to receive it in ten minutes if I so wished. You’re forgetting, we’ve got money behind us, more than enough to fund this project ten times over and we’d still have money left over that we could live on for the rest of our lives. You think this is expensive, you would die if you saw the prices of some of the properties in The Wizarding World.”

“I believe you,” he chuckled.

“Grimmauld Place, where Harry and Ginny live with the kids, that place is worth almost six hundred thousand.”

“But it’s smaller than the house and they don’t have the land.”

“Exactly,” she shrugged. “The Wizarding World is full of greedy people.”

“So, should we go for it? Is this where we’re choosing to put down roots?” He asked her.

She nodded. “I think we should, we can always move in and if we don’t like it, we could either sell it or keep it so we have something to leave the children once we pass, or we could use it and rent it out as a holiday home, possibly even wedding venues. At the very least, if we sell it, it’ll be worth more than we paid for it so we’ll see a profit.”

“Alright then, should we sign the agreement?”

She nodded against him, before pulling back from him and they walked over to the realtor hand in hand.

“We’ll take it,” she said, seeing the realtor smile at her knowingly. He’d been dealing with her for years; he knew her taste for properties all too well. “I’ll contact Gringotts and have the money prepared for transfer for tomorrow, Wednesday at the very latest.”

“Excellent, I’ll contact the owners immediately,” he spoke, before pulling a muggle phone out of his pocket and walking away from them.

“Well, welcome home, Mr. Winchester.”

“Home is wherever you are, Mrs. Winchester,” he replied, smiling when he saw her cheeks blush.


	95. Chapter 95

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 9

**One month later...**

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Hermione asked Sam.

She slipped on her jacket and sat on the bed, leaning over and struggling to put on her shoes. In the end, Sam laughed at her annoyance before climbing off his own bed and moving over to her, helping her to put her shoes on, earning both a glare and a look of thanks as he stood up and returned to lounging on his bed.

“No, I think I’ll wait until it’s all finished, it’s more of a surprise that way. I still can’t believe you and Dean have bought a house and are turning it into a permanent home base.”

“Why not?” She asked.

He shrugged. “It just seems strange to me, growing up Dean never showed any interest in anything but the hunting life, or of having a family. And now, years later, he’s married, he’s going to be a father and he’s putting down roots. I still find it hard to believe sometimes.”

“That’s understandable,” she told him. “Particularly after I learned about his past.”

“He changed from the moment he laid eyes on you. You’re the best thing to happen to him, to us,” he confessed.

She felt tears welling up in her eyes and she forced them back, knowing Sam would tease her and she’d probably kick him in retaliation.

“Well, that goes both ways, Sammy. You ever thought about having a family?”

“When I was still in college and I had Jess, but since her death, I haven’t really thought about it. I’d like to in the future, maybe when I’m a little older and if I were to meet someone that I could see myself having a family with,” he shrugged.

“You’ll find her, there’s someone out there for everyone, just look at me and Dean. Maybe you need a witch.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at her amused. “What? Your brother certainly did, you may be the same. Just think, The Winchester line will be filled with Hunters, witches and wizards. The world will forever be changed.”

He chuckled, amused. “Maybe,” he agreed. “You going to be gone long?”

“No,” she shook her head. “A few hours at most. It’s why we took this case in the first place, it’s only an hour or so away from Great Falls, Montana, which is where our property is hidden. As time passes and the baby grows, both my magic and my body are growing tired, which is why Dean is so insistent that we take a respite at least every two weeks. We’re only going to check on the progress of the house and we should be back no later than dinner.”

“We still heading to England for the weekend?”

“That’s the plan, we’re going as soon as we’ll get back. It’s too dangerous for me to use apparition or port keys now that I’m mid-way through my pregnancy. And since we’re too far away from the Cambridge Apartment, Dean doesn’t want me cooped up in the car for a two day trip, and I don’t like the idea myself. It’s getting harder to get comfortable when in the Impala. We’re going to have Mimsy pick us up, then we’ll have her pick up Bobby and we’ll head straight over to England. Dinner at The Burrow’s planned for six and everyone should be there, including Charlie and The Malfoys. We’re telling them the news.”

“Thank God,” Sam sighed. “It’s been so hard to keep it a secret.”

She snorted. “I know; you’ve got a big mouth.”

~000~000~000~

Dean took the turning onto the dirt road that led to their soon to be home and exactly ten minutes later they pulled up a little distance away from the house, stepping out of the car and being greeted by the foreman.

“Pius,” she smiled in greeting.

“Mrs. Winchester, Mr. Winchester,” he replied with a smile and a nod, and Dean returned the gesture, taking Hermione’s hand in his as the foreman led them closer to the house.

“As you can see, we were able to salvage the building which has put us one month ahead of schedule. We’ve replaced all the external woodwork and charmed it against insects and termites to preserve the wood. We’ve replaced all the windows and the damaged bricks and charmed the rest of the building to ensure that there are no structural issues in the future. We strengthened the house’s foundations and we’ve replaced the roof entirely, since we were unable to salvage it. We’ve finished the exterior of the building and have begun work on the interior. We’ve had to replace a few walls and we’ve added additional structural beams for safety. We’re going to need to replace the entirety of the flooring, I have Gerald and Mark working on the ground floor, whilst Kevin, James and Simon have started work on the extension you wanted. Not only is everything going to plan, but we’re ahead of schedule, and I would estimate that we should be finished in six week’s time.”

Dean stared in surprise at the place that would soon be home to his family. It looked nothing like the house they had first seen a month ago, in fact, he was half-convinced he’d took the wrong turning and was on someone else’s property.

“That’s brilliant,” Hermione beamed. “We can have the decorators in soon after and they should be done in less than two weeks, and we can move in soon after. Have you had a chance to look at the plans for improving the pond?”

“Yes, I have Henry and Vince working on it as we speak. Last time I checked, they had drained the pond and had started on lengthening it. I have Liam and Dan working on that treehouse we discussed and we were able to find several trees to build it around that are structurally sound and that're closer to the house than they are the high way. And, if you look over there,” he lifted his hand to point out the direction he meant, and they both squinted, seeing figures in the distance apparently hard at work and doing God knows what.

“Zak and Jake are working on an extra special project.”

Hermione frowned in confusion, having no idea what he meant. “They’ve started work on building a playground for the children. They’ve already finished building the wendy house and the swing set, they’re now working on the climbing frame and slide.”

Hermione and Dean both blinked in surprise.

“We never asked that of you,” she said.

“I know,” the foreman smiled. “It’s a gift from us to you.”

“A gift?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

“A gift,” he nodded. “We’ve been doing business with you for years now, Mrs. Winchester. You’re my best and most appreciated customer. It was the boys’ idea that we gift you something to show our thanks and gratitude, free of charge.”

“We couldn’t possibly allow you to do that for us,” Hermione said.

“You can and you will.” 

~000~000~000~

**The Burrow**

Hermione and Dean sat beside each other eating their dinner that Mrs. Weasley had prepared with the aid of Fleur, Angelina and Ginny. Everyone was laughing and chatting happily as the sun beamed down on them and the breeze offered a nice break from the heat, which Hermione was grateful for.

Dean was currently talking to Lily, as she sat beside him in her own chair, and she had grown remarkably. She was now four years old and despite two years having gone past, she still loved Dean as much as she did when she was two years old. Albus’ favourite was still Sam, and James’ was still Dean.

Hermione looked around the table, her eyes landing on Bobby who sat a little further down the table, close to Molly and Arthur and they chatted whilst Bobby had a newly turned two-year-old Scorpius perched on his lap, his mop of platinum blonde hair blowing into his eyes in the wind and him giggling as he stole a sausage from Bobby’s plate. Sam was a little ways down to the right, currently in an argument with a six-year-old Fred and a now ten-year-old Hugo, whilst George watched amused and tended to his three-year-old daughter, Roxy.

The other children had already finished eating and were now running around the grounds, chasing each other and playing tag, and the adults chatted, ate and watched the children. Hermione felt a smile pull at her face and Dean’s hand squeezed hers under the table, drawing her attention.

“Everything alright?” He asked, noticing that she had barely touched her dinner and that she was quiet.

“Absolutely perfect,” she told him honestly. He smiled before leaning over to kiss her cheek. “You think we should do it?”

She nodded. “It’s time, we’ve kept it from them long enough and I don’t think Sam can keep his mouth shut for much longer.”

Dean chuckled before they both stood and it drew the attention of the table immediately.

“Alright, Hermione?” Harry asked, eyeing her strangely, as if he knew.

Hermione wouldn’t put it past him, he knew her very well and he could always tell when she was keeping something from him. And they hadn’t visited in months, which made him think they were hiding something.

“Everything’s wonderful, Harry,” she replied, earning questioning looks and raised eyebrows, particularly when they spied Sam smiling widely. “In fact, we wished to share something with you. We’ve been keeping it between us for a while now; we wanted to wait until we were sure nothing could go wrong.”

“Spit out then, we’ll die before you get to it,” George spoke, earning a slap over the head from his wife.

Hermione and Dean grinned at each other before she removed her hand from his and removed his leather jacket, which she’d purposely wore to hide her stomach, the shirt she had on underneath was the opposite. She purposely wore it to show it off.

They all stared in silence when they saw her stomach, their eyes darting between her, Dean and the growing baby bump.

“We’re five months pregnant,” they both said together with large smiles on their faces.

It was silent for a few moments before noise, cries and cheers broke out and Hermione and Dean were crowded around, being congratulated and hugged.

All the women cried as they took it in turns to hug Hermione, particularly Molly, which only set Hermione’s tears off. Dean was hugged and clapped on the back by the men, before being crushed into a bear hug by Molly, soon followed by the women. The men were careful when they each hugged Hermione, speaking of their happiness for her that she going to be a mother.

By the time Harry reached her, her tears were falling freely and he chuckled at her as he hugged her.

“I’m happy for you, truly I am. I know how long you’ve wanted children and I know you and Dean have been trying for years. You’re going to be brilliant parents; we’ve all witnessed how much the children love you.”

“Thank you, Harry,” she sniffled. “It came as a shock. We’d almost lost hope.”

“How’d you find out?”

“Long story short, one of Dean’s Hunter friends, Jo, was jealous of our marriage and she found me out our motel when he was getting me dinner. She shot me.” His eyes widened. “I almost died but Castiel turned up and healed me, and stopped Dean from killing Jo, barely. He told Dean that the bullet had missed the baby, when I came to Dean told me. I didn’t believe him so I went to a healer, they confirmed it. I still didn’t believe it so I took several muggle pregnancy tests, they were all positive.”

“I really am happy for you,” he smiled.

“Thank you, Harry. I’ve never been happier. He’s been a pain in the arse with his overprotectiveness; seriously, he won’t drive above thirty no matter the speed limit.” Harry snorted at her. “But aside from that, I’ve never been happier, and it’s because of him,” she said, her eyes finding Dean and seeing him beaming a smile as the men surrounded him and were clapping him on the shoulder. His eyes caught her gaze and he smiled at her before he was pulled away by Bobby.

“Congrats, Kid,” Bobby’s gruff voice spoke as he hugged him tightly.

“Thanks, we’ve been waiting a while.”

“I know you have and I’m happy for you, if anyone can juggle a baby and the hunting life, it’s you and Missy. And I know you’ll be a good dad to the kid.”

“Hermione wouldn’t let me be anything but,” he said and Bobby snorted, knowing it was true.

“How long have you known?” he asked Dean.

“Remember when Jo shot Hermione?”

Bobby’s eyes hardened and he nodded stiffly. Ellen had told Bobby about the incident, knowing he’d find out eventually and it was safer to tell him herself. Bobby had driven straight to The Roadhouse with the intent to shoot Jo, and it had taken a lot for Ellen to convince him otherwise.

“When Cas healed her, he told me the bullet had missed the baby, we didn’t even know she was pregnant. We got really lucky, Jo almost cost me my wife and baby. She was seven weeks along at the time.” Bobby’s frame tensed tightly. “You can’t kill her, Hermione wouldn’t allow it. She wouldn’t let me kill her even after we discovered she was pregnant, she just let me shoot her a few times before I took her for dinner. Cas only healed her when she was on the verge of dying.”

“If I see her, I’ll shoot her, too,” he promised.

“Hermione would never forgive you,” Dean told him.

Suddenly fireworks were going off drawing everyone’s attention. He looked to the sky seeing the bright colours and the stories they told, not even bothering to act surprised at the sudden appearance. He’d learned that George always carried fireworks with him, which he found odd, but he couldn’t judge given the number of weapons he had stashed away in his pockets.

Once the fireworks had ended, the children were playing and Dean found himself with a glass of fire whiskey in hand, along with the others whilst Hermione had pumpkin juice, much to her annoyance at not being able to drink. A toast was given in honour of Hermione and Dean and they were congratulated once more.

“Do you know what you’re having yet?” Ginny asked her. “Healers can tell from as little as ten weeks.”

“No,” Hermione replied, “We want it to be a surprise.”

“It’s a boy,” Dean said.

“It could be a girl,” Hermione argued.

“It’s a boy, I can feel it.”

“You’ll feel my fist on your nose,” she warned to the sniggers of the others.

“I’m too pretty for you to damage my face, you won’t do it and we’re having a boy. I’m psychic.”

“You’re not psychic.”

“She married a psychic,” Dean told the others, shrugging.

“I married a psycho,” she corrected to the laughs of the others at their bickering.

~000~000~000~

**One month later...**

Another month had passed without incidence, and thankfully only minor injuries to the brothers whilst hunting, but that still didn’t stop Hermione from shouting at them afterwards.

The previous day Hermione and Dean had visited the house to once again check on the progress that had been made since their last visit a month ago, and both of them were pleased to see that the house was almost complete. Pius the foreman had told them it would be two weeks at most before the house would be complete and the decorating team could start work.

All that was left to be finished was the second floor and the attic, along with a few finishing touches being placed on the extension they had built. The treehouse was finished as was the play area they had built, but Pius had refused to let them see it until the house was complete.

Hermione now being six months pregnant and her stomach being as big as ever, was bored. The brothers were working on a case and she had given them all the research she had been able to find, and whilst they were working in the field, trying to find the one responsible for the deaths, she was bored out of her mind and sick of staring at the same four walls of the motel room.

It was mid-August, the sun was shining and the temperature in the room was too much to bear, what with the AC not working which Hermione was not surprised by. She huffed from her place lounged on the bed, before she climbed off and went over to the table where her beaded bag was sat. She pulled out a cover-up and slipped it on over her blue summer dress, before leaving a note for the brothers should they get back before she returned. She picked up the key and left the room, locking it behind her.

She took the short walk from the motel into the town, slowly walking down the street and window shopping, before she came across a shop that sold baby items. She stopped and before she could convince herself otherwise, she stepped inside and immediately began searching through the available items, picking out several items of clothing in neutral colours, along with some sleepsuits, hats and a baby blanket. She took the items to the counter and paid, before walking out of the shop with a smile on her face, a hand resting against her stomach and a bag of purchases for the baby.

She continued to walk through the town, her eyes window shopping until she saw something she liked and she absolutely had to have it. By the time she reached a cafe, she had several bags shrunken down and hidden in her beaded bag. She’d purchased a few dresses for herself, a few t-shirts and jeans for Dean and Sam, and some bibs and vests for the baby.

She sat in the cafe, happily sipping away at her iced drink and picking away at her muffin, whilst watching the other occupants of the town going about their day. Children running around, adults on their lunch breaks and teenagers walking down the street with their friends. She felt a smile pull at her face, she felt peaceful.

The sound of a cry drew her attention and her eyes searched the cafe until they found what they were looking for. There was a young woman sat several tables away from her. She had bags under her eyes and looked exhausted as she tried her best to calm the crying baby in her arms. From her distance away, Hermione would’ve guessed the baby couldn’t have been older than a few months.

Hermione finished the last of her drink and muffin, before standing and leaving a tip on the table, making her way through the busy cafe until she came to the young woman. Noticing her presence, the woman looked up from her baby and to Hermione, her eyes landing on her stomach and then her face.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, but I heard your baby crying and I was wondering if you would like some help, you look exhausted.”

The woman eyed her strangely before speaking. “He’s been upset all morning, and didn’t sleep much last night,” she explained.

Hermione nodded. “I’m Hermione,” she introduced herself.

“Natalie,” she replied. “And this is my son, Oliver.”

Hermione smiled. “Would you mind?” She asked, gesturing to the baby. Natalie shrugged before handing the child over to Hermione.

Hermione settled the child into her arms before she sat on the chair opposite Natalie and made herself comfortable. She leaned back into the chair and rocked the child in her arms as she made shushing noises, and within minutes, the child was quiet and sleeping.

“How did you do that?” Natalie asked her surprised.

“Practice,” Hermione smiled. “Is Oliver your first child?”

“How’d you know?”

Hermione chuckled. “You remind me of my sisters when they had their first.”

“Do you have other children?” She asked, looking to her stomach.

“No,” Hermione shook her head. “I’m pregnant with my first child, but I have thirteen nieces and nephews, so I have a lot of practice,” she chuckled.

“Do you know what you’re having?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, my husband and I wish for it to be a surprise, it took us two years to fall pregnant and now that it’s finally happened, we wish to be surprised. Though he is adamant we are having a boy, he claims to be psychic,” she rolled her eyes and Natalie chuckled at her. “Now, you mentioned that Oliver was a little fussy today?”

Natalie nodded, and Hermione frowned in thought and bit her lip, before carefully slipping the tip of her finger into the sleeping child’s mouth, running it over his gums and she felt a smile pull at her mouth.

“He’s teething,” she explained and Natalie blinked at her. “His first tooth is coming through; this’ll be why he didn’t sleep last night and the poor dear is only going to get worse.”

Hermione sat with Natalie for half an hour, talking and offering advice from what she’d experienced with her time with her nieces and nephews before Natalie had to leave as she had an appointment.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” Hermione spoke with a smile.

“It was, thank you for your help, I’ll be sure to put your advice to good use,” Natalie replied. “I hope we see each other again.”

“It’s unlikely, we’re only passing through; we should be gone by the end of the week at the latest.”

“In that case, thank you and I wish you luck, but after what you did for my Oliver, I think you’re going to be just fine,” she replied, nodding to Hermione’s stomach. Hermione smiled in reply before they both left the cafe.

Hermione slowly walked down the street until she stopped in front of a window, tilting her head to the side and looking at the couch that was displayed, deciding whether or not if she liked it and if she should purchase it for the library.

She felt a presence behind her and when she lifted her eyes, they latched onto the reflection of someone she did not want to see.

“Hello, Love, it’s been a while.”


	96. Chapter 96

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 18

Hermione sighed, before tipping her head slightly in greeting, and then turning her eyes back to the couch.

“It’s been a while,” she said. “I would say it’s nice to see you but we both know I would be lying.”

His mouth pulled into a smirk and he stepped closer to her, his chest almost touching her back.

“I have missed that smart mouth.”

“I doubt any of your _employees_ would ever dare to speak to you the way I do,” she replied.

He chuckled at her. “No, they most certainly would not.”

She nodded slightly, before tipping her head, gesturing to the couch on display questioningly. “What do you think?”

He titled his head, examining it carefully. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she sighed.

Her eyes then turned to the table and chairs which she could see further back in the shop, and without a word, she slipped away from the King of Hell and into the small furniture shop, making her way straight over to the table. She knew he followed behind her, despite him not making a single sound in his movements. She ran her fingers along the table, and sized it up, deciding whether or not it would suitable for one of the libraries.

“Solid oak, nice choice,” Crowley complimented, before pulling out one of the chairs and sitting himself down, apparently not caring if one of the shop attendants were to come along and ask him to move.

She nodded. “I’m still not sure,” she replied.

“And what is to be its purpose?” He asked conversationally.

Hermione looked up at him, her body turned away from him in such a way that he had yet to notice her large stomach that could only be associated with pregnancy.

“If I were to purchase this, I would place it one of the libraries.” He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “And whilst I am grateful for your opinion, I am sure you did not come all this way to help me furnish my house. To what, do I owe the pleasure, of a visit from you?”

His mouth twitched. “Well, kidnapping certainly hasn’t worked in the past,” he replied.

“No, it hasn’t,” she agreed. “I believe on both occasions you were bested, injured, left alone and frustrated,” she said with a smile pulling at her mouth.

“Hence a new approach,” he tipped his head. “You might be more willing to answer my questions if I were to show you some respect.”

Her eyebrow raised and she snorted. “Respect?” She questioned, walking away from him and a little further forward so she could better see the selection of lamps that were for sale.

“Respect,” he confirmed.

“You do not respect me.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” he shrugged. “But I can respect that you have the intelligence to have not only bested me once, but _twice_. I can respect that you have The Winchester brothers wrapped so tightly around your finger, that they are willing to die for you, to protect you at all costs. And I can respect you enough, that you were able to get, Dean Winchester, a notorious man-whore, to put a ring on your pretty little finger and give up his bad habits.”

Hermione turned her head to look over her shoulder. “How do you know that we are married?” She questioned, but she didn’t sound surprised that he knew.

“Your _husband_ let slip at our last meeting. After that I took it upon myself to go digging further, imagine my surprise when I found a marriage certificate, naming you husband and wife, not even weeks after I knew you had met each other. That certainly was fast,” he commented.

She shrugged. “The line of work we are in is dangerous. Our futures are uncertain and we saw no point in wasting our time dilly-dallying around each other. Our relationship before our marriage was, _intense_ , and we both knew that there would never be another that we loved and cared for more. We wed as soon as we could.”

“And here we are, two years later. You are a difficult woman to follow.”

She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, but the way his mouth twitched led her to believe it was.

“Well, Dean and Sam are excellent with their wardings,” she shrugged, before moving to the left, her eyes looking over the selection of cushions and throw blankets, her hands reaching out to gauge the softness of the materials used.

“You and I both know that I am not referring to their wardings. I was able to have them followed long before you came into the picture, and now it is more difficult, and I know you have something to do with it. I know that you are not what you appear to be.”

“That is true,” she admitted with a nod.

“You admit that I am right about you?” He asked curiously.

“I see no point in lying anymore, we have been doing this for the better part of two years now; I’m getting tired of your attempts to weasel your way into our lives. I know that since our last meeting, you have attempted to capture either myself, my husband, or my brother-in-law several times.” She looked over her shoulder, amusement bubbling within her at his surprised expression. “So, yes, Crowley, I am different, but the question is, how?”

“What are you?”

“It must be killing you inside, to know that you have been right about me all this time, to know that despite you having my family followed, you have learned nothing about me except for what my dear husband accidentally divulged.”

His eye twitched and his hands clenched into fists.

“You do not know my maiden name, you do not know my age, you do not know who I am, or why and how I met The Winchesters. You may know that I am originally from Britain due to my accent, but you don’t know where I lived, or why I am now here, in America. You know nothing of my private life, except that I am tied to Dean and Sam. You know that I am different, but you do not know why or how.”

“It is maddening,” he admitted.

“I can imagine, I hate not having answers to questions that have been bothering me for some time,” she said sympathetically. “Dean says that I’m a bigger bookworm than Sam, and I love a good research project.”

She looked around, wondering why no one had thought to approach them, wondering why she couldn’t even see another person in sight, but she assumed it had something to do what the man sat at the table.

Hermione moved to the other side of the room, sitting herself down on a black leather couch and leaning back into the cushions, sighing at the comfort it offered her. Maybe she should purchase it; it came with two matching armchairs after all.

She turned to look behind her over the backrest, seeing Crowley’s eyes glued to her. 

“You want answers?”

“Obviously,” he rolled his eyes.

“Then I would be glad to give them to you.”

“You would?” He asked in clear surprise.

“Yes, I am tired of this game of cat and mouse. I don’t need the added stress of you following me around, planning to subject me to whatever forms of torture you could think of, so that you may extract the answers you wish to hear from me. My life is stressful enough and I need to be careful.”

His eyes swept over her face, down her neck and to her shoulders, the rest of her was hidden by the couch she was perched on, meaning he still hadn’t seen her stomach.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione held a finger up which caused him to pause. She dug into her beaded bag and pulled out the ringing phone, before answering the call.

“Yes, Patrick?” She answered.

“Glinda, you alright?” He sounded worried and she rolled her eyes at his overprotectiveness. As far as he was aware, she’d only gone for a walk around the town.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she replied. “I could no longer take the heat or the boredom of being stuck in that stuffy room by myself and I wished to explore a little more of the town. I’ve had a lovely time, and I’ve even made a few purchases that you’re going to love. I even found a new pair of boots for Sammy.”

Dean snorted on the other end of the phone. “Well, we’ve finished with the interviews, Sammy wants pizza for dinner.”

“With lots of....”

“Meat, I know,” he chuckled fondly. “Do you want us to pick you up; we’ll be there soon anyway?”

Her eyes moved over to Crowley, seeing him watching her carefully. “Of course, I’ll be in the cafe, I’ll see you soon,” she replied, before hanging up. “Dean’s coming to pick me up,” she explained, seeing the way he frowned deeply. “But I did say that I would give you the answers you were looking for. So, in two hour’s time, I will be expecting you at my place of staying.”

“And what makes you think I know where that is?”

“I’m not stupid,” she said. “You and I both know where I am staying and which room I’m staying in, too. The only reason you have been unable to get close to me is due to the wardings.”

“And whatever _you_ have done to the rooms,” he added. “The Wonder Brothers may have demon proofed the rooms, but I am the King of Hell, in time I would’ve found a solution around the wardings, but I cannot even get close, and I know that is your doing.”

She smiled at him innocently. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “And I am positive that you will be able to get to my rooms.”

~000~000~000~

“What are you hiding?” Sam asked her.

They had just finished eating dinner, and through it Sam noticed that Hermione had been unusually quiet, meaning that she was up to something. And his suspicions were cemented when she bit her lip and a nervous smile pulled at her mouth.

“Glinda?” Dean questioned with a narrowed gaze, sitting up from his reclining position on Sam’s bed.

“Don’t freak out,” she replied.

“Why?” They both questioned and she laughed nervously.

“You both know I wouldn’t do something unless I had thought it through and if I thought it was stupid and unsafe.”

“What did you do?” They both asked.

She sighed before fiddling with her fingers, her eyes darting between them. “Crowley found me.”

“WHAT!”

She winced at their shouts, and they both stood up immediately.

“Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? I’ll kill him!” Dean growled, spinning on his heel and making his way to the door. Hermione threw a Locking Charm at it so he couldn’t open it.

“Calm down, I’m supposed to be the hormonal one,” she said. Dean glared and Sam couldn’t help the snort that left him. “I am perfectly fine and he did not hurt me, he just wanted to talk.”

“To talk?” Sam questioned confused.

“Yes,” she nodded, before pointing her wand at Dean, and then to the bed. It was a gesture of warning, one that if he didn’t sit down and listen, love of her life and father of their baby or not, she’d hex him until he couldn’t walk.

He clearly wasn’t happy, but he was wise enough to follow her unspoken instructions, sitting down on the bed and his closed fists resting on his lap, whilst Sam took his seat at the table and Hermione stood in the centre of the room between them.

“He had questions, the same questions as before. He wishes to know who I am, and I’ve decided to tell him.”

“WHAT!”

She winced again but continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted.

“I have come to the conclusion that it is best for all of us if I were to tell him, not everything of course, only of my being a trueborn witch.”

“Why?” Sam asked with a frown and eyeing his brother carefully.

“He’s never going to leave us alone. I haven’t told you because I didn’t want you to worry, but he’s been having us followed for almost two years now, especially since your kidnapping, Sam.” She explained. “I know he’s tried to capture at least of us several times and he hasn’t been able to because I’ve been using my magic to prevent it. I’ve been able to tell when he’s close by which is how I’ve kept him from getting to close to us. I admit, him finding me today was a bit of a surprise; I’ve been too distracted by the baby and the house to keep a feel out for him.”

“What’s to stop him from killing you? Hurting you? Taking you away from us so he can use you?” Sam asked worriedly.

She smiled at him, and it wasn’t just a smile, this was a ‘she has a devious plan’ sort of smile, and he felt his eyebrow rise questioningly.

“It is my understanding that he loves to make deals.”

“Over my dead body,” Dean growled.

She rolled her eyes. “Relax, Dean, this is going to be a deal that I’m in charge of. He won’t even realise what he’s agreed to until it’s too late.”

“Meaning?” Sam asked.

He was curious when she walked over to her beaded bag and stuffed her hand inside, digging around its contents before pulling out a stack of papers, a fairly large stack of papers, he realised.

“I’ve had a feeling that it was going to come to this at some point in the future, so I’ve prepared myself.” They both blinked at her. “For the last year and a half, I’ve been carefully crafting a contract between us and Crowley. A contract that is so well crafted, there isn’t a single loophole that can be exploited, and believe me, I’ve had several of the best lawyers and barristers look over this for me. Not even the King of Hell himself can find his way out of this deal once he’s signed on the dotted line, and it’s also a magical contract, giving us extra security.”

“What are the terms?”

“To simplify it, the terms are: that for the answers he wishes to receive from me, he is bound by his word and the contract, to never harm a member of The Winchester bloodline, distant relatives or not, in the past, present and future, until the end of time itself, and I have included Bobby and Castiel, too.” They blinked at her. “He is bound by this contract, to not allow a single demon under his command to hurt anyone that has Winchester blood, past, present or future. If a demon goes rogue and intends to harm us, then he must deal with the situation and if unable, he must give us plenty of warning so that we may be ready to defend ourselves. He’s not to break the terms of the contract and he’s not to have someone else break the terms of the contract for him.”

They both blinked at her. “I have ensured that the future of The Winchester bloodline is protected from Crowley and his demons. We will no longer have to worry about them personally targeting us. Of course, we will still investigate and deal with these demons, as it is our job, but they cannot come after us.”

“That’s brilliant,” Sam praised and she smiled at him. He shouldn’t have expected anything but, to be honest. “But what assurances do we have that Crowley will even sign the contract? As we all know, _he_ makes the deals and selects the terms of the contracts.”

“Well, aside from the fact he will finally get the answers he’s been wishing for, or at least partial answers, I have also included a small section that states, if Crowley should ever require my help and magic and I am able to do so, then I will help him. He’s the King of Hell and is bound to have enemies, if he were to sign this contract we would be allies of sorts.”

“And the best option for him, I would hate to be your enemy,” Sam nodded.

Hermione turned her eyes to Dean, seeing him glaring at the ground and with his hands still clenched into fists. Feeling her eyes on him, he lifted his gaze to lock with hers and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t like it,” he said.

“I know,” she nodded, walking over to him and stopping in front of him.

He automatically wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer; he pressed his forehead against her stomach and sighed when she moved her hands into his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp with her nails.

“He’s never going to leave us alone, Dean. This is the best option we have available, and in getting him to sign the contract, not only will he not be able to harm us and our family, but future generations, too. I’m aware that there’s the possibility he may find a way to travel back in time, which is why I’ve included past relations, too, and that the contract forbids the breaking of its terms. I have also included the protection of any future, present or past spouses and their families. This contract benefits us more than it does him. He will never be able to harm us again. We’re protected from him.”

“You’ve thought of everything,” he mumbled.

“It’s my job to,” she shrugged, a smile pulling at her mouth when he placed a kiss to her clothed stomach. “He doesn’t know about the baby. By positioning myself strategically, I was able to hide that from him.”

“Where did he find you?” He asked her.

“A furniture shop. He followed me inside and chatted with me whilst I looked around. I think I’ve found the perfect couch for the Hunter’s library, and a table, too. I’ll have to go back and see if it’s still available before we leave. With a bit of magic, I can have it put into storage with the rest of the furnishings for the house. And I bought the cutest sleepsuit today,” she said, before pulling back from him and summoning the bags containing her purchases.

She pulled out the little sleepsuit, showing it to be white in colour with a smattering of little grey and silver stars and with the matching hat and mittens.

“Isn’t it adorable?”

He peeked inside the bag, seeing other items of white, yellow and pale green.

“Why are these unisex colours?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You know why,” she huffed.

“I’m telling you now, Sweetheart, we’re having a boy.”

“It could be a girl,” she grumbled.

He gave her that stupid, lopsided smile that always made her squirm. “It’s a boy.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, it’s definitely a boy.”

“What makes you so sure?” She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at him since he was still sat on the bed.

Neither of them had forgotten that Sam was sat at the table and watching them amused, whilst he also flicked through a magazine that had been left behind by the last occupant of the room. 

“I just know,” he shrugged.

She narrowed her eyes. “Have you been secretly communicating with Castiel?”

It made sense to her that if he knew she was pregnant long before they did, he would probably know the gender, too.

“No, I haven’t,” he shook his head.

They’d only seen Castiel a couple of times since discovering Hermione’s pregnancy, and whilst Castiel had told Dean he knew the gender, Dean didn’t need clarification and he didn’t ask for it either, he knew that without a doubt they were having a boy, and he’d been tossing around names for months, but hadn’t yet told Hermione.

“Then how?” She questioned.

“I just do, Sweetheart,” he said, softening his voice as he could see she was beginning to get agitated.

He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her closer to him, lifting his hands to rest against her stomach. Hermione placed the sleepsuit on the bed and rested her hands over the top of his.

“I can’t explain it, it’s just a feeling, a knowing that we’re having a boy. I told you that I had a feeling that we would have a baby soon, and a few hours later we discovered you were pregnant. But what I didn’t tell you was that I’d been having dreams of you being pregnant, I didn’t want you to worry or think that I was crazy.”

Her eyes had widened slightly and she stared at him. “Have you dreamt about the baby?” She said quietly.

“Yes, and that’s why I’m positive we’re having a boy.”

“You’ve been spending too much time around Luna,” she commented, and Sam snorted from the other side of the room.

“You think she may be a Seer,” Dean shrugged. “Maybe her talent’s rubbed off on me. I told you I was psychic,” he grinned.

She rolled her eyes before slapping him upside the head, he scowled and Sam laughed. “If you were psychic, you would’ve known I was going to do that.”

“Whatever, we’re still having a boy, I’m sure of it.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll start purchasing more boys’ clothing, but if you’re wrong and we’re having a girl...”

“You’ll hex me until I can’t move, I know,” he said with a grin. “But I’m not wrong, we’re having a boy.”

Hermione was confused when he gently pushed her away from him, before he disappeared out of the room, returning minutes later with a duffle bag in his hand. He placed it on the bed before opening it up and beginning to remove the contents and laying them out for her to see. She knew it was one of the duffle bags she’d placed an Extension Charm on, since there were more items than could’ve possibly fitted in the bag.

Her eyes widened and she felt tears welling up. She stared at more items of clothing than she’d bought all together, all of them in blues and greens, there were a few items of white, black and grey, and some in red, too. She looked at the sleepsuits, t-shirts, vests, jeans, and a few little shirts that were absolutely adorable.

She moved closer to get a better look, and she noticed a stack of receipts still inside the bag. She pulled them out and looked at the dates, the very first receipt showing that Dean had started purchasing baby clothes from not even a week after discovering she was pregnant.

She tore her eyes away from the papers in her hands and up to Dean, seeing him staring at her.

“I...” She whispered, at a complete loss of words. Her eyes watered and her chest ached with the love she felt for her husband.

“I knew you’d be a stubborn witch, so I thought ahead,” he said with a smile.

“I can’t imagine you shopping for baby clothes,” she finally got out.

His smile widened. “Neither could I at first, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. I almost felt sorry for the women that were working on the checkout.”

She closed her eyes and her tears fell. She felt Dean’s hands on her face, wiping them away from her cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” He frowned, looking at her worriedly.

“Sam?” She called. He hummed in response, pulling his eyes away from his magazine. “I would suggest you take your reading elsewhere.”

“Why?” He frowned, his eyes darting between her and Dean.

She turned her head slightly, and something must have shown on her face because he grimaced and made a noise of disgust and annoyance.

“Fine, I’m going for a walk,” he muttered, grabbing his coat and quickly leaving the room.

Hermione turned her eyes back to Dean, seeing him watching her carefully.

“I didn’t think it was possible to love you any more than I already do, and then you go and surprise me with something such as this,” she whispered.

He blinked as she pulled away from him, and with her wand, she had all of the baby clothes back into the duffle bag and she had locked the door and silenced the room.

She shrugged off her cover-up and dropped it onto the bed, before grabbing him by his t-shirt and tugging him with her as she walked towards the other bed in the room. Dean seemed to have caught on to her intentions and his hands had slipped to her hips.

“Crowley is due to be here in less than an hour,” she informed him.

Dean felt a smirk pull at his mouth. That was plenty enough time to get Hermione purring beneath him and for her to add a few new marks to his permanently scarred back.

She had always been responsive to his touch, but due to her pregnancy, everything seemed to be magnified, over sensitive. He barely had to touch her for her to orgasm, and even those seemed more intense, especially when he was inside of her when it happened.

It felt as though all of his energy, his life force, his very soul was being dragged out of him and into her. He would be exhausted and hardly able to move afterwards, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love what her hormones did to her. Her increased sex drive ensured that he needed sleep and rest to be able to keep up with her, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

She climbed onto the bed and he followed after her, listening to her breathy giggles and whimpers when he attacked her neck with kisses.

~000~000~000~

The knock on the door alerted Hermione to Crowley having arrived, and before she could attempt to open it, Sam beat her to it. Dean held her tightly against him with a gun held in his other hand and she would’ve rolled her eyes, but not only was she used to his overprotectiveness by now, she'd been expecting it.

“Ah, Samuel, how’s that knife wound?”

“I may have invited you here, but I can kick you out on your arse just as easily,” Hermione said.

“Calm down, Love, I was just making pleasantries,” Crowley said amused as he stepped into the room.

“We don’t care for your pleasantries,” Dean replied through a growl.

Crowley smirked when Hermione soothed him by running her fingers up his arm and whispering something into his ear. Crowley raised an eyebrow when Dean’s breath seemed to hitch, his eyes darkened and he looked down at Hermione intensely, before he took a deep breath.

“As you can imagine, we want to get this over with, so, take a seat and we’ll get started,” Hermione said, gesturing to the table.

Thankfully he didn’t protest and sat in the seat closest to the window, leaning back in the chair and stretching his legs out.

“So, Spitfire, what do you wish to tell me?”

She rolled her eyes, before standing up and that’s when he noticed it. Her large stomach. After she and Dean had finished with their activities, they’d both showered. Whilst Dean had dressed in his jeans, boots and a t-shirt, Hermione had done the opposite. She knew that they had no plans of leaving the motel room that night, and so she dressed for bed. With it being so warm, she wore a pair of sleep shorts along with a spaghetti strap top that stretched over her stomach. But over her clothing, she wore one of Dean’s shirts left open and unbuttoned, wearing it more like a cover-up.

Crowley’s eyes darted between Sam, Hermione, Dean and Hermione’s stomach.

“Surprised?” She asked amused.

He nodded, speechless.

“Never thought I’d see the day you had nothing to say,” Sam muttered from his place leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

Whilst he looked the perfect picture of ease, Hermione knew that he had a pocket knife hidden in his hand, as well as two guns being hidden by his clothing, should he need them. He was just as protective as Dean when it came to her safety, but he knew when to stop his actions. He was just the right amount of protective; Dean didn’t care, as long as she was safe, that was all that mattered to him; even if he was protecting her from ridiculous things and it angered her.

“Yes, well, I’m six months pregnant, now, let’s get on with this. The baby’s doing a number on me lately.”

She stood up and walked over to the table pushing the pile of papers that sat on the surface closer to him. He cleared his throat, shook his head and looked at her curiously.

“It is my understanding that you like to make deals,” she explained. His eyes positively lit up. “So I am going to make a deal with you, one that I will and have set the terms of.” He raised an eyebrow. “Nothing is up for negotiation, you either sign it or you leave and you don’t get the answers you are looking for. I suggest you read it so you are fully aware of our terms. And there is no point in looking for loopholes, I assure you, there are none.”

She turned and made her way back over to Dean, sitting down beside him with his arm automatically shifting around her waist and resting against her stomach, his gun still held in his hand and his eyes glued to Crowley.

~000~000~000~

It was half an hour later when Crowley pushed the papers away from him and sat back in his chair, apparently finished reading through it.

“I have to admit, that is one thorough contract,” he spoke, his eyes moving between her stomach and her face.

“I’ve been working on the contract for over a year and a half,” she replied.

“I can see that,” he mused. “I have a few questions.”

“I thought you might.”

“Firstly, I understand your inclusion of spouses and their relations, as well as future generations,” he said, his eyes lingering on her stomach in a way that made her shift uncomfortably. “But what of the past relations?”

“I’m not stupid, Crowley, I know there are forms of time travel, I can’t and won’t risk you or someone else that is under your command going back in time to either harm someone or prevent this contract from ever being made, which is why I also included the terms of you not being able to break the contract.”

“You truly are clever,” he muttered.

“The Brightest,” Sam corrected. Hermione scowled at him, knowing he was referring to one of her many titles.

“You have made mention of your help being available when needed,” Crowley drew her attention.

“Yes, and I’m sure you’re just dying to know how I could be of help to you. But I assure, Crowley, you would rather me an ally than your enemy.”

“She’s right, I’ve never met someone so frightening,” Sam shivered.

“Mimsy,” Dean piped up, his eyes still glued to Crowley and his hand still resting on Hermione’s stomach, but his mouth twitched.

“I stand corrected, there is only one person more terrifying,” he spoke, his face going pale at the thought of the terrifying house-elf.

“I’ll tell her you said that,” Hermione said.

“Then I’ll tell her about that shepherd’s pie you made without her knowledge,” Dean replied and Hermione scowled.

“You fight dirty.”

“Winchester trait,” he shrugged.

“I know, I am one too, you know.”

Dean tore his eyes away from Crowley to look down at her, his face softening in such a way and him looking at Hermione so lovingly, that it made Crowley feel nauseous.

“I’m aware,” Dean muttered softly, before pressing a kiss to her forehead and turning back to Crowley with dislike shining in his eyes. “You sign it and get your answers, or you get out and leave us alone.”

Crowley made a show of skimming through the contract once more, double-checking for anything he could use to his advantage, but there was nothing. He loathed admitting that she’d done a good job.

Seeing no other option but to sign, and realistically, her terms were understandable and acceptable, he removed his favourite pen from his pocket and signed on the dotted line. Much to his surprise, the contract glowed a shimmering gold and then it disappeared from the table. One moment it was there, and the next it was gone.

He slowly lifted his eyes, seeing the brothers smirking at him and looking more comfortable now that he was unable to cause harm to any of them. He looked to Hermione.

“It’s automatically gone to a safe place, a place you or no one else will ever be able to find, let alone have access to,” she explained.

“What are you?” He asked.

“You’re right, I’m different.” She answered. “And I’m not sure if you’ve met someone of my kind before. For our safety and well-being, we’re very well hidden from both the supernatural and muggles.”

Muggles? He was sure he’d heard that term before, somewhere in the back of his mind a memory was trying to resurface. A memory from long ago when he was still human.

“I’m a witch,” she shrugged.

He eyed her strangely. She reached behind her and when her hand came into view, she had a wooden stick held gently in her grasp. She flicked it and almost everything in the room levitated off the ground, floating gently in the ar.

“I’m a trueborn witch.”

He felt the breath being knocked out of him and his eyes widened. He would be lying if he didn’t admit to himself he was a little afraid and that he may have gotten himself in trouble. She was right. All he knew was that she was a trueborn witch and he was already glad he had not made an enemy of her. There was not a lot that could frighten him, but a trueborn witch certainly did. A memory of his witch mother came to mind.

Sam laughed and Dean smirked.

“Do you know of my kind?” Hermione asked him. He felt himself nodding. “Excellent, then I don’t have to waste my time explaining everything to you.”

“I have a general idea of what you’re capable of but that’s going off the assumption you’re an average witch, but I have the feeling you aren’t,” Crowley said.

Sam laughed and Dean felt a proud smile pull at his mouth.

“No, she is most certainly not average,” Sam snorted.

“Have you heard tales of the Wizarding Wars?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, it would be difficult not to.”

“And Harry Potter? Hermione Granger?”

“Yes,” he replied, blinking slowly, wondering where she was going with this. “From what I’ve heard in passing, they’re two of the most formidable trueborn magicals that have been seen in centuries.”

Dean couldn’t keep the smirk off his face no matter how hard he tried.

“Harry Potter is my little brother; my maiden name is Hermione Granger.”

“Witch got your tongue?” Sam questioned, having too much fun with winding Crowley up, especially when he sat there with a pale and blank look on his face.

“Explanation enough?” Hermione asked.

He nodded, slowly pulling himself together and gaining his bearings, before looking to Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“I get it,” he said knowingly. “I’m married to a witch, the very thing I’ve been taught to hate since I was a child, the very thing I hunt and kill. Glinda, here, is a true born witch. I’ve seen the things she’s capable of. I’ve heard of and seen the good she’s done. She’s one of the most loved witches in her world and I can see why. She’s one of the good ones.”

“You’re married to a witch!”

Sam couldn’t help laughing at his completely confused look. God, he hadn’t been so entertained in ages.

“Yes, I know, keep up,” Dean replied with a sigh.

“She’s pregnant!”

“With my baby, I’m aware; I was there when it happened.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and Sam snorted. “I’m pregnant with the first magical generation of The Winchester line, and it’ll continue to grow even after we’ve passed.”

“Making us twice as dangerous,” Dean said, looking at Crowley far too smugly for her liking and she elbowed him in the ribs. “And we’re not stopping at one either,” he said lightly. “I’m aiming for a minimum of three, even more, if she agrees to it. I’m putting as many babies in her as she allows.”

Crowley choked on his breath and by this time, Hermione had to throw a _Silencio_ at Sam to silence his laughter. It was so loud it was giving her a headache. Her spell work didn’t stop his laughter or deter him though; his shoulders were still shaking and his eyes on the verge of leaking tears.

“I think that’s more than the poor demon can handle,” Hermione spoke. “Now that the contract has been signed and you have answers to your questions, I think it’s best you leave, I’m tired and Sam’s going to pass out from laughing at you soon. He’s grumpy when I revive him afterwards, so I’d like to avoid that. We’re allies now, and I would appreciate it if you stopped having us followed and let us live our lives. All the stress you put on me is not good for the baby, and if anything happens and it’s your fault, I assure you, Dean’s not the one you need to be afraid of.”

He considered her words and nodded slowly.

“I hope the next time we see each other, it‘s because you require my magical assistance, and not under other circumstances. Goodbye, Crowley.”

“Winchesters,” he nodded, before standing and leaving out the door, which Hermione locked behind him and Dean re-salted the door, since Sam was still in the middle of his fit of laughter. Every time he attempted to stop, it would bubble right back up.

Hermione rolled her eyes before shuffling on the bed until she was laying down and Dean laid beside her, propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at her, with his hand entwined with hers as it rested on her stomach.

“And he’s gone,” she sighed.

“I’m sorry I overreacted before. You’ve never led us astray before, I should’ve trusted you when you told us your plan,” he said.

She turned her head to look at him. “If you take me for pancakes in the morning I’ll forgive you.”

He chuckled and placed a kiss to her forehead. “When have I ever denied you food?”

“Never, which is one of the reasons I love you so much.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “So, I’ve been thinking, now that I’ve finally convinced you of my psychic abilities...” She snorted at him. “We should start thinking of names, I don’t like referring to him as ‘baby’ or ‘boy,’ he needs a name.”

Her mouth pulled into a smile. “And I assume you’ve already got some suggestions.” He nodded. She peered over Dean and removed the Silencing Charm from Sam. “Pulled yourself together now?”

Sam nodded and appeared to be getting his breathing back under control, before he disappeared into the bathroom, presumably to shower.

“Alright, Patrick, let’s hear these names.”

“Jude?”

“No,”

“Lennon?”

“No,”

“Paul?”

“No, and I know what you’re doing.” He gave her an innocent look. “I love The Beatles as much as you do, but I’m not naming our child after them, besides, none of those names sounds right when coupled with ‘Winchester’.” He conceded her point with a tip of his head. “And if you’ve got names picked out from any other of your favourite rock bands, you can forget them, too.”

“Fine,” he muttered and she rolled her eyes.

“Do you have any other suggestions?”

“Just common names, but with a name like yours, I was thinking something more unique.”

“What were you thinking of for the more common names?”

“Ben, Thomas, Justin, Shaun, Max,” he shrugged.

She bit her lip. “I don’t mind Thomas, but I know what you mean about wanting something that’s different. In the Wizarding World, a lot of the families name their children after people from myths or legends, the stars and constellations, and even flowers and plants. Ginny gave me a book before we left England, I haven’t looked at it yet as I wanted to do that with you, it’s basically a list of uncommon and unusual baby names.”

“You have it with you?” She nodded. “Then let’s have a look, I’m not letting our boy go any longer without a name.”

Hermione smiled and stood to retrieve the book. When she returned to the bed, Dean shifted so he was sitting with his back against the wall and he pulled Hermione to sit back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and resting them on her stomach and resting his chin on her shoulder so they could look at the book together. Hermione went straight to the boys’ section and they looked through it together.

“Oscar?” Dean asked, before they both waved it off.

“Jasper?” She said, but they both wrinkled their noses at the name.

“Alvin?”

“It doesn’t sound right,” she shook her head.

~000~000~000~

Hermione’s hand had long since started to cramp so Dean took over holding the book and they continued to read through the names without any luck, until Hermione came across one name in particular.

“How about Evander?” She asked.

“Evander?” He questioned.

She nodded, before lifting her finger and pointing at the name in the book. “It says here it means warrior, wisdom and strength.”

“Evander Winchester,” he tried it out.

“Evan or Xander for short,” she said.

“I like it,” he nodded.

“I do, too, as for middle names, should we only have one, or two? Bearing in mind, we have three names to use, so if we’re lucky enough to have another child and it happens to be a boy, we can use one there, too. Bobby, Sam and Harry,” she listed off and he nodded in agreement. There was no else they would choose over those three.

“Evander Robert Winchester?” He suggested.

She frowned before nodding slowly. “I think we’ve made it official.”

“Why?”

She tilted her head back to look at him and she smiled, before taking the book from him and putting it beside her. She took his hands in hers, placing them against her bare stomach, she waited a moment before they could feel it. A strong thump against their hands.

“Shit,” Dean muttered in awe, and despite his language, she felt a large smile pull at her face. Despite her being six months along, this was the first time the baby had kicked strongly enough for Dean to feel it.

“He started kicking the moment you said his name.”

“Evander Robert Winchester,” he said aloud, before a loud laugh left him when he felt another kick against his hand, and he didn’t think he could love his son or his wife any more than he already did, and then he felt his son make his presence known for the first time.

“Are we in agreement?” She asked and he nodded instantly, his eyes glued to her stomach and his mouth pulled into a wide smile when he felt another kick.

“Sammy! Sammy! Get your ass out here!”

There was a crash before the bathroom door opened and a half-dressed Sam barrelled out, looking around with wild eyes, before seeing that there was no sign of danger.

“What?” He questioned, pushing his wet hair out of his face with a huff. Hermione wished he’d let her give him a haircut.

“Want to meet your nephew?” Dean grinned at Sam and he frowned in confusion.

Hermione held a hand out to him expectantly and he walked over the bed, took her hand and sat down beside them.

“We would like to officially introduce you to your nephew,” she said with a smile, before placing his hand against her stomach and holding it in place with her own. “Evander Robert Winchester.”

Right on cue, their son gave a kick and Sam’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

“Oh My....”

“He’s definitely going to be able to kick your ass with a kick like that,” Dean grinned and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Men,” she sighed.

Her eyes softened when both Dean and Sam shared a look and a nod before their attention went back to her stomach. To their baby who would be with them, in their arms, in a matter of months.

And she couldn’t wait.


	97. Chapter 97

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 15

**Three weeks later...**

“Just think, one more week and we’ll finally be able to see our family home for the first time,” Dean said, as he and Hermione walked hand in hand down Diagon Alley.

In the last week alone they’d managed to wrap up three cases with only minimal injuries of a few cuts and bruises, and since they’d been so busy lately they’d decided that they would return to England for a few days in order to have some time away and they could spend it with the family, especially since once Evander arrived, it would be a while before they would have the time or energy to visit. 

They’d been back in London for only three days so far and as soon as they set foot in Diagon Alley barely an hour after arriving, Hermione had been ambushed by the paparazzi and Dean had been far from happy. Thankfully, Harry had been with them and he was able to help her and Sam restrain Dean from killing anyone, but that meant that more than a few Memory Charms had to be used in order wipe their memories of discovering Hermione’s pregnancy, as well as destroying the evidence on the cameras. Two days later, and Hermione’s pregnancy was still a secret and that’s the way they wanted it.

Hermione had seen the stress the press had put on Ginny with her pregnancies and given her mother’s fertility problems as well as how long it had taken her to fall pregnant, neither she nor Dean wanted to risk putting any stress on Hermione or the baby. In fact, they didn’t wish for the pregnancy to be known at all, they were going to wait until after Evander had arrived and then release a statement once they were sure that both Hermione and Evander were healthy. Whether or not that went to plan would remain to be seen.

Given that it was now early September and all children that were old enough were at Hogwarts, Diagon Alley was fairly quiet that morning. Summer was transitioning into autumn meaning there was a chill in the air and Hermione pulled her robes around her more firmly, not only keeping her warm, but hiding her almost seven month baby bump from anyone that didn’t know it was there.

They’d left Sam at the apartment given that he was still in bed despite him usually being the first one up, but the previous night Dean and Sam had been invited over to Malfoy Manor by Draco, along with Harry and The Weasley men for a night of muggle poker and drinking. Dean had been fairly sober when he returned; Sam, on the other hand, had to be brought back by one of the Malfoy house-elves as he’d passed out.

“I know; I can’t wait to finally see where we’ll be raising our family. It seems like we’ve been waiting forever,” Hermione sighed.

“Well, not much longer now,” he said, smiling down at her and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “The decorators are due to be finished in a few days and then we just have to wait until the house and land is magicked proof, Castiel’s going to do the demon proofing afterwards, it’ll be a lot easier for him than it would be for us, and he’ll have better knowledge of the wardings, too, and he mentioned wanting to put a few Enochian symbols around the property for extra security.”

“I know, the more security we have the safer our family will be. The house-elves are preparing to move Bobby’s things.”

“He’s still going to shoot you, he’ll just wait until after little Xander’s arrived,” he said amused.

“He wouldn’t shoot me,” she rolled her eyes. “Though he might slap me over the head a few times, but it needs to be done. He’s not getting any younger, Dean, and you saw his medical records just as I did. He’s going to kill himself, he’s not looking after himself as he should be, and even if we do decide to continue hunting and we do so as a family, he won’t be alone as the house-elves will take care of him, even Bobby can’t so no to Mimsy.”

Dean snorted, knowing it was true. No one could say no to Mimsy. It was impossible as the little elf wouldn’t listen anyway, she was just as stubborn as Hermione, if not more so.

“And that’s why I altered the design specs,” she said.

“What do you mean?” He asked, having no idea what she was talking about.

“I originally planned to have Bobby move into the house with us, but I think it might be too much for him since he’s so used to living alone, and I still want to give him his independence and privacy.”

“So he’s not going to be staying with us?” He questioned confused. 

“No, he is, just not in the house. The storage facility on the property was the size of a small cottage and so I had Pius convert it into one. All he had to do was install a few windows and a few walls and doors. With magic, they had it completed in less than a day. If the plans have been followed it should have a bedroom, a bathroom, a small kitchen and a living room, which will be decorated similarly to his house. I’m planning to use his own furniture and only replacing it if it’s broken, Mimsy snuck over there the other day to catalogue everything so it can be moved to the cottage once we’ve lured Bobby away from the salvage yard. And I’m going to have the cottage warded against magic so he can still have his TV. The cottage is only a ten minute walk to the house so he’s not too close and not too far away and the two garages are only a five minute walk from the cottage, where Baby and his truck will be kept, and there’s still room for another three cars plus anything else we wish to keep in there.”

“And what about Hunter’s Information Central?” He asked amused.

“Now that’s a surprise,” she said with a smile. “One that you’re going to have to wait to see.”

He chuckled at her and shook his head. “Are you planning on moving anyone else in with us?”

“Not yet, but you never know, maybe I can convince Castiel to stay on Earth for a little while so I can re-instil human emotions and mannerism into him. What took me years to do, took you no time at all to destroy,” she told him.

He snorted at her and gave her a gentle nudge with her shoulder, she laughed at him until she accidentally bumped into someone.

“I’m really sorry....” She said, stopping in her steps and turning to look behind her at the person she bumped into, and her eyes widened when she recognised who it was. “Adrian?” She said surprised. She felt Dean tense beside her, recognising the name of one of her ex-boyfriends.

Adrian looked surprised to see her but a warm smile quickly appeared on his face, his hazel brown eyes softened and his light brown hair was tousled by the wind and it fell into his eyes. He wore a pair of black slacks and a perfectly pressed white shirt, coupled with black robes.

“Hermione,” he breathed her name like it was a prayer and she felt Dean’s hand tighten around hers.

“It’s been a while,” she spoke.

He nodded, his smile widening. “It has, too long.”

She turned her eyes to her husband, seeing the possessive and protective look that was held on his face and she caught his hand going to his pocket to pull his gun. She subtly elbowed him in warning.

“Adrian, this is my husband, Dean Winchester,” she introduced. “Dean, this is Adrian Pucey, one of the best Chasers in the Quidditch League.”

Adrian’s smile fell slightly at the mention of Dean before it widened at her praise and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand, hiding his wince when Dean squeezed tight enough to dislocate a few fingers. Hermione elbowed Dean again, knowing what he’d done.

“I read you’d gotten married, I wasn’t sure I believed it until I saw the interview,” Adrian said, a sad look entering his eyes, but his smile remained trained on her. “You look happy,” he commented, his eyes sweeping over her figure as if trying to commit her to his memory, despite the fact he’d seen her naked plenty of times in the past.

“I am, very happy,” she said, giving a loving smile to Dean and leaning into him which seemed to calm Dean a little as she felt some of the tension leave him.

“How long you’ve been married?”

“Two and a half years, it’ll be three years by the end of March,” she replied.

Hermione saw the way Adrian was eyeing up Dean, and she didn’t know why until he spoke.

“And you’re treated right?” He questioned, looking away from Dean and to her, daring her to lie to him.

Hermione dug her nails into the back of Dean’s hand when saw him going for his gun again.

“Better than is possible,” she answered honestly. “I mean, he’s a pain in the arse over how protective he is of me, he won’t even let me carry my own bloody bags, but yes, he treats me very well. He puts me first and always has, he’s not a man of many words, but his actions more than speak for him and he loves me just as much as I love him. You have nothing to be suspicious of, Adrian. Do you honestly think Harry and Draco would allow me to marry someone they didn’t approve of?”

A sad smile crossed Adrian’s face. “No, Draco’s even more protective of you than Harry is, and despite my friendship with Draco, he didn’t approve of me when we were together.”

Dean’s ego inflated a little at that, knowing that Draco actually liked him and that he approved of him being with Hermione when he hadn’t his own friend.

“Dean, will you give us a moment?” Hermione said, turning her eyes away from her ex-boyfriend to look up at her husband. He looked down at her and she knew he was going to argue. “Please, Dean, he’s not going to hurt me, he’s not Ryan.”

“Ryan? Ryan Newton?” Adrian questioned quickly, his eyes darting between Hermione and Dean. “You the one that put him in hospital?”

Dean eyed him warily and Hermione looked surprised. “How do you know about that?” She asked him, knowing that it was never made public; Kingsley, Harry and Draco had buried it years ago.

“I was visiting a member of my team before practice when he was brought in. I’ve never seen such damage done without magic, by the state of him I’d say he’d been attacked by a gang of muggles.”

Hermione looked down at the ground and Dean removed his hand from hers so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her protectively into his side.

“Why do you want to know?” Dean asked.

“I know what he did to Hermione and if you were the one to put him in the hospital, I’d want to shake your hand.”

Dean kept his gaze locked on Adrian’s before lifting his hand and Adrian took it and shook it, this time without Dean trying to break his hand.

“Who’d you get to help you?”

“No one,”

Adrian looked surprised, especially since he’d seen the barely breathing, bloodied and battered state Ryan had been in when brought into the hospital. To be honest he thought he was dead, and if he wasn’t, that he wouldn’t survive such a beating.

“If my brother had been with me then the asshole wouldn’t have survived. I planned on killing him but Hermione convinced me otherwise,” he admitted and Adrian’s eyes widened, particularly of the fact he’d spoken so casually about his wanting to kill him.

“I told you he protects me,” Hermione said quietly and he turned his eyes back to her, seeing the way she was tucked into Dean’s side and pressed up against him with one hand resting on her stomach. “Dean, please will you give us a moment alone? I promise, Adrian’s never once laid a finger on me, he’s one of the better exes.”

Dean looked conflicted before he slowly nodded. “Alright, I’ll get us a table,” he said, gesturing to the cafe that was a few shops down and where they’d intended to get breakfast.

“Will you order me...”

“Pancakes with chocolate sauce, bananas and strawberries, and tea,” he finished amused.

She nodded gratefully and she kissed his cheek, as he eyed Adrian once more and then stepped away.

“Dean...” Hermione called.

“Chocolate fudge cake with all the trimmings, I know,” he said, sounding amused and not once turning back to look at her.

“And...”

“A bacon and sausage sandwich with hash browns and extra bacon, I’ve got it covered.”

She smiled to herself and then turned back to Adrian, seeing that he looked both amused and saddened.

“He knows me so well,” she shrugged.

“So I see,” he replied.

Silence fell upon them and Hermione shuffled on her awkwardly.

“I’ve never seen you so happy, you’re glowing,” he commented.

Both hands came up to her stomach before she could stop it. “Thank you, I feel happy.” She felt a smile pull at her face at the knowledge of why she felt happy and she looked down at the ground.

“I never should’ve let you go,” he muttered. She frowned and lifted her head and her gaze was caught by his. “I know it was my fault, I know you would’ve stayed with me if I asked you to. I was wrong to let you go.”

“You broke up with me, I may have wanted more from you but I never voiced my wishes. I just wanted you to be happy and you seemed to be, which is why I was surprised when you broke up with me.”

He looked sad. “I never should’ve broken up with you.”

“Then why did you?” She asked. It didn’t matter to her anymore, but he’d never given her a reason. He’d just done it suddenly without explanation.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” He asked with a sad smile.

“No, it really wasn’t,” she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I loved you.” She blinked in surprise. “I broke up with you because I’d fallen in love with you and that scared me, I didn’t know how to deal with everything and I panicked, and I made the biggest mistake of my life.” She opened her mouth to respond but she couldn’t find the words to say. “It’s okay, it’s my own fault, I lost you because of my own actions, if I’d just spoken to you, then maybe it would’ve been me that you married. You know you’re the only witch that’s seen my apartment, and you’re the only witch that I’ve been pictured with? I had hoped you’d see that and understand what it meant since I couldn’t tell you at the time, and when you didn’t come back I knew I messed up. I tried to run into you so I could talk to you but I always seemed to miss you and then I heard you were dating Theo and I had to resign myself to the fact I’d lost you for good.”

“I...”

“You don’t have to say anything,” his sad smile was still on his face. “Neither of us expected to see each other again and certainly not today. I just had to tell you, I wanted you to know it wasn’t anything you’d done, that I was the one at fault. I only wish I could go back and change everything, you never know, we could’ve had a family by now. You were it for me and I messed up.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she replied, feeling tears welling up in her eyes and her hormones didn’t help either.

“You didn’t,” he assured her. “It was my own fault.”

“I feel there’s something I should tell you.”

“Alright,” he said, looking at her curiously.

Her answer was to raise her left hand and the gold runic band around her finger shimmered in the sunlight. His eyes widened, recognising it for what it was.

“I guess it was never meant to be, even if I hadn’t let you go. You may have been it for me but I would’ve never been it for you,” he said sadly. “This explains so much actually, why I was never able to get you to that point.” She felt her cheeks heat up at the meaning of his words and he smiled fondly. He hadn’t seen that sight in years. “Can he?”

Her cheeks darkened instantly and he chuckled at her. “Yes,” she admitted.

He nodded, before sighing. “Well, you better get back to him before he comes out here and hurts me for keeping you from him.”

“I truly am sorry, Adrian, and I hope you find a witch you can have a family with you.”

“No one will ever compare to you,” he said quietly, before leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek and he hugged her, before quickly pulling back when he felt her stomach brush against his.

“You’re glowing,” he said, understanding suddenly hitting him. She gave him a sheepish smile. “How far along are you?”

“Next week I’ll be seven months along.”

“Good thing?”

She smiled and nodded. “Amazing, we’d been trying for nearly two years when we found out I was pregnant. Dean was even more excited about it than I was, he’d started buying clothes a week after we discovered I was pregnant, I didn’t even know and I only started a month ago myself,” she said fondly.

“Do you know what you’re having?”

“A boy, Evander Robert Winchester,” she answered. “We’re trying to keep it a secret until after he’s born. The press surrounded us the other day and Harry and Dean’s brother had to restrain Dean from killing them, and trust me, he wouldn’t have hesitated either. Luckily Harry and I were able to delete the evidence so they’re none the wiser.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he promised.

“I know,” she nodded and she turned to look behind her at the cafe. “I better go.” He nodded in agreement. “I wish you the best and I hope you find a witch that is deserving of you,” she said softly, before standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. She pulled away and turned around, making her way over to the cafe.

She stepped in and although there were a few whispers at her entrance, no one approached her as she found her way over to the secluded table Dean had claimed.

“Thank you,” she said as he stood up to pull her chair out for her. He shrugged it off, but she knew how hard it was for him to give her that time alone with Adrian. “Did you get...”

“Toast with strawberry jelly, yes.”

“Jam, it’s strawberry jam.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes.

“Did you get...”

“Yes, Glinda, I got your orange juice, too.”

“But...”

“And your fresh fruit to go, they’re going to bring it out before we leave.”

“Well what about...”

“Your chocolate sandwich for you to snack on whilst walking around Diagon Alley? I’ve ordered you two so you can have one during our travels back to the apartment, too.”

~000~000~000~

**One week later...**

“I don’t understand why I have to be here for this?” Bobby’s gruff voice filled the car as he sat in the back with Sam and Hermione was sat in the passenger’s seat, as usual with her shoes off, a pillow cushioning her back and her feet in Dean’s lap as he drove to their new home. Today was the day they got to see it completed for the first time.

“Because I said so, stop being a baby,” Hermione scolded and Sam sniggered at Bobby, until he was slapped on the back of the head.

Hermione wanted him to be there for the reveal since it would be his home too, but also as it gave Mimsy and Mittens the chance to pack up Bobby’s furniture and clothing and have it unpacked into the storage unit turned cottage before they showed it to him.

“Besides, you’re going to need to see how to get onto the land,” Dean spoke up, keeping his eyes on the road and looking for the point where the trees lead to the entrance.

Hermione had already given Bobby access through the _Fidelius_ as well as Dean and Sam, so they’d be able to see the house once they were approaching it. Dean pulled up on the side of the road, and Bobby and Sam looked at him when he peered out the window with squinting eyes.

“He’s looking for the entrance,” Hermione explained before she flicked her wand and the trees parted.

“Why didn’t you do that before?” Dean asked, before pulling onto the dirt road and the trees covered the entrance behind him.

“And welcome home,” Hermione said softly, hearing the noises of surprise from Bobby and Sam as the manor house came into view for the first time and Hermione had tears welling in her eyes at seeing the finished product, and she couldn’t imagine anything being more perfect for their family.

“This is your house?” Sam asked in surprise.

“No, it’s our house,” Hermione sniffled and she knew Sam was surprised by what he was seeing as he didn’t tease her for crying.

Dean pulled to a stop not far from the house and he got out of the car and helped Hermione to put her shoes back on and then he helped her out of the car and they all stood in front of the manor house, staring up at it.

Dean had to admit, he couldn’t imagine it looking like anything else. He thought it rather suited Hermione and just as Hermione had gotten the feeling when she first arrived on the property, Dean could now feel it, too. Looking up at their home, he could feel it would be the place to raise his family with his wife. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her forehead, smiling down at her when he saw her tears of happiness.

The manor house was a lot bigger than when he first saw it and he knew it was due to the extension they’d had added to the building. It was one of the biggest houses he’d ever seen -disregarding Malfoy Manor, of course- and he couldn’t believe it was where his family would grow.

The bricks looked mismatched, some being new and others being older, but he could tell the entire house had been given a few coats of paint, making it a grey-brown colour, where the roofing was a dark grey. The large front door and window panes were white and the porch and steps matched the colouring of the house and a porch swing, a small glass table and a couple of chairs where positioned on one side, facing off in the distance of the playground that had been built.

“You should do it,” Hermione spoke, pulling a key out of her pocket and holding it out to Dean for him to take.

He smiled at her and plucked it out of her hand before bounding up the steps and unlocking the door and he quickly made his way back to Hermione. She shrieked in surprise when he swept her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing, even with her added weight of being pregnant, and he took the steps one at a time before nudging the door further open with his foot and stepping into the house.

“Carrying you over the threshold,” he shrugged and she rolled her eyes at him as he gently placed her back on her feet, and she felt Sam and Bobby step out from behind her until they stood beside her and their eyes swept the room.

The house consisted of four floors and the basement. The entirety of the basement had been made into a potion’s lab for Hermione, knowing she’d be the only one to use it and therefore there was no point in it taking up an entire floor of the house for it. The ground floor was split into three rooms. The first room being the living room and it was the first room you stepped into when you entered the house.

Hermione and Dean had decided that they both liked the layout and design of her living room back in the Cambridge apartment and decided to try and keep it as similar as possible while making it child-friendly. For this reason, it was decorated in blues and silvers, with light wood flooring, two large couches and two matching armchairs and an oak coffee table placed in the centre of them. There was a large fireplace dominating the back wall and it was connected to the floo network, so it wasn’t surrounded by any furniture for safety reasons. The walls were covered in photos depicting Hermione and Dean’s life together. There weren’t many before the wedding, but they’d more than made up for it afterwards, with photos of Hermione, Dean, Sam, Bobby, The Potters, The Malfoys and The Weasleys taken at different events and locations.

Dean and Hermione led Sam and Bobby forward and through the door which took you into the open planned kitchen and dining room. It was decorated with the same colour scheme of blues and silver and had light wooden flooring, but marble countertops and white storage cupboards, with two large ovens placed beside each other and a kitchen island in the centre of the room. There was a small room off to the side which was the laundry room.

The dining room side of the room had a dining table of oak and eight matching chairs surrounding it, and photo frames littered the wall behind the table, too, all of them filled with more photographs of their lives together.

The door out of the kitchen was planned to lead to her potion’s lab, but she had a surprise for Dean, and it was another reason why she’d had it moved to the basement. Hermione took his hand and pulled out him out of the kitchen and down the hallway before opening the door. Dean stepped in behind her and she couldn’t keep the smile off her face when she saw his wide eyes and his speechless state.

“What the....” He muttered.

She allowed her eyes to take in the sight before her and she was glad to see the decorators had done a brilliant job, but given what she paid them, she wouldn’t expect anything less.

The room was only slightly smaller than two before it, and that was saying something. This room was decorated in greens and browns with light wooden flooring and dark furniture. On the back wall, she had a built-in bar stocked with Dean and Sam’s favourite beer and fire whiskey, and three stools sat in front of the counter. Beside the bar on the wall sat the largest TV she could purchase and it was equipped with all of Dean and Sam’s favourite channels, and two dark leather armchairs sat in front of it. In the centre of the room was a pool table with the appropriate equipment stored on the shelves and cue rack that was on the wall behind the door. Off to the right sat two mini-refrigerators on top of a storage cupboard, which held Dean and Sam’s favourite snack foods. Not far from that sat a poker table with six chairs surrounding it and a small shelf sat on the wall holding the poker chips and several decks of unopened cards.

She’d made sure to have the entire room warded against magic so that the muggle items in the room wouldn’t be affected, but that also meant that magic could no longer be cast in the room unless the wards were removed. This would prevent any of her brothers from cheating at poker if and when they decided they wanted to visit and have a game with Dean and Sam, like they do at Malfoy Manor.

Dean slowly turned around to face her and she barely stopped herself from laughing at the expression on his face.

“Surprise,” she said.

Sam snorted from behind her and Bobby grumbled under his breath, but Dean continued to stare at her.

“My lab’s been built in the basement instead. We weren’t going to use it and I’d rather not have spiders crawling around down there. To be honest, the conditions in the basement are naturally cooler and better for some of my more volatile ingredients.”

“You...”

“Built you a man cave? Well, _I_ didn’t but someone else did it for me. The room’s protected from magic, so not only is your TV and mini-fridges safe, Sam will be able to use his laptop in here, when it arrives, that is.”

“What?” Sam said confused.

She turned to look at him. “Your new laptop, I’ve ordered you one and it’s due in the next few days. I’ve been meaning to get you a new one for months but I’ve been distracted with the house and the baby. I relied on the tech whiz in the stop so if it’s rubbish, it’s his fault, not mine. It’s an Apple Macbook Air, so it better be good for what I paid for it.” His eyes widened.

“You...”

She turned her eyes back to Dean, seeing that he was still staring at her and she could no longer restrain her laughter. He blinked at her dumbly and her laughter grew louder and Bobby snorted at her. She was able to calm herself down and she decided to give Dean a moment to collect his thoughts so she stepped out of the room and waited in the hallway by the stairs that lead to the next floor, and beneath the stairs was the door that led to the basement.

She smiled when Dean exited the room and instantly pulled her into a hug, placing a kiss to her neck, then her jaw, then her cheek and finally her lips. She pulled back from him and smiled. She knew how much he appreciated what she’d done even if he couldn’t find the words to say so.

She took his hand and pulled him up the stairs onto the first floor, which held the bedrooms. The first floor looked much like a corridor in a hotel with a walkway and several doors on either side, with the master bedroom being at the end of the hall. The first door on the left led to the bathroom and after that there were two more doors, one a bedroom and the other being closest to the master bedroom and the nursery. On the right there were three doors, two being bedrooms and the middle room leading to a playroom, filled with more toys than Hermione couldn’t even remember buying, but this was to be used for the older children, too, when they visited.

They stopped at the nursery and stepped inside, seeing that it was mostly similar to the children’s room back at the Cambridge apartment, only it was decorated in soft blues and white with moving images of magical creatures prancing about the walls, and there was a soft blue carpet covering the floor. The crib sat against the back wall with two small tables on either side of it. There was a chest of drawers to the right of the crib and one to the left of it. On the wall to the right sat the changing unit and a store cupboard with all the nappies, wipes, creams and powders that could possibly be needed. A rocking chair sat by the window in the room with a small table nearby, and when you looked up, the ceiling was charmed to depict either a sunny day or a starry night.

Hermione thought it was perfect as she snuggled into Dean’s side and smiled.

They made their way out of the nursery and to the master bedroom, Hermione and Dean stepped inside whilst Bobby and Sam stayed in the corridor. It was the largest bedroom in the house being almost twice the size of the others; it was even bigger than the ones in her apartments. 

Hermione and Dean had decided on neutral colours of silver and black, with two walls being black with silver accents and the remaining two the opposite. The bed was larger than the ones in her apartments, too, since Dean had insisted that they would need a bigger bed. Having spent time with the children and realising how much they loved to sneak into bed with them, he was adamant they would need more space for when their children were old enough to do the same and Hermione hadn’t the heart to disagree with him.

The headboard was oak and large and sat against the back wall. The bedding was black with silver accents and the duvet thick and warm ready for the coming winter. They’d opted for light wooden flooring, thinking black carpet would be too dark and silver wouldn’t look right in the room. They had two oak bedside tables, one on either side of the bed and a silver padded bench sat at the foot of the bed.

Off to the right sat Hermione’s vanity table and matching stool, where to the left of the room sat a large fireplace with a silver and black rug in front of it, along with a black couch and an oak coffee table. The silver curtains were blowing in the breeze coming from the opened windows and Hermione flicked her wand to close them again, feeling the cold in the room. There was no chest of drawers or wardrobe as they had a walk-in closet to the left of the bed, and to the right was the en-suite bathroom, having both a shower and a claw-foot tub, which Hermione had been adamant about having.

“Is that the biggest bed available?” Dean asked her, eyeing the bed.

“Why?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I think we need a bigger one.”

She rolled her eyes and walked out of the room, leading back towards the stairs and before she walked down them, she turned to her left where they were surprised to see a hidden staircase which led them to the second floor. The second floor consisted of nothing but a bathroom and bedrooms, five to be exact and it had the same format of the floor below, three doors on either side of the hallway.

“How many bedrooms does this house have?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

“In total, ten. The master bedroom, the nursery and then eight bedrooms,” she answered.

Bobby made a noise of surprise in the back of his throat. “Why so many?” He asked gruffly.

“Well, there’s me and Dean, and the baby, and obviously Sam, so there’s three gone right off the bat. We’re planning to have three children, which takes another two, leaving five bedrooms. Then you have to take into account the children when we have them for a few days, and now that we have an actual house, George and Angelina, or Harry and Ginny may even take some time off work to visit and stay with us for a few days, so we’ll need rooms for them, too. And now that the kids are getting older, the boys and girls will need separate rooms, and suddenly, we’ve got no available rooms left. We have a large family, Bobby,” she shrugged. “You can take any room you wish to Sam, on either floor, they’re all the same, once you choose we’ll decorate it to your liking.”

She led the way down the end of the hall and to the final flight of stairs, which led to the third floor.

“This was the attic but I had it converted.”

“To what?” Sam said, and he got his answer the moment he stepped into the room.

She’d converted the entire floor of the attic into one large, combined library. There were no windows but for the ones installed in the roof above them and there was dark wooden flooring beneath them. The entirety of the left wall contained bookcases upon bookcases of hunting texts, whilst the entirety of the right wall held bookcases upon bookcases of magical texts. An oak table with four matching chairs was placed near to the door and on the Hunter’s side of the library and a matching oak table and chairs were placed on the magical side of the library but towards the back wall. In the centre of the room sat a black leather couch and two matching armchairs along with an oak coffee table in the centre of them. In the left corner of the room there was a small room that had a toilet and sink, and in the top right of the room was the storeroom containing the scrolls, pre-drawn demon traps and salt. The very back wall was the wall that opened up to the armoury and it would only open for herself, Dean and Sam. There was another door beside the storeroom which she saw Dean eyeing curiously and she gave him a smile that had him raising an eyebrow and looking to Bobby, and she nodded in confirmation, glad that he’d caught on so fast.

“That’s for you, Bobby,” she said, pointing to the door of her meaning.

“Me?” He questioned confused, walking over to the door and opening it, revealing it to look like an office of sorts.

There was a large desk and a comfortable looking chair near the back wall, several filing cabinets to the right and on the left wall by the desk was several telephones stuck to the wall, much like the ones she’d seen at his house, and she’d made sure to have the little office warded against magic so it wouldn’t interfere with the telephones.

He looked around confused but Sam seemed to have understood what she was doing and was sharing amused looks with his brother, who was now accessing the armoury so he could see the stash of weapons. It was actually an exact replica of the weapons at the Cambridge apartment, only there were more of them and some were different sizes, too. Though there were several empty spaces which he suspected were for the weapons they usually carried with them, meaning Hermione’s hunting knife and gun, Dean and Sam’s hunting knives and guns, and the knives they’d been gifted by Hermione.

“What’s going on?” Bobby asked, leaving the office-like room and stepping back into the library, noticing that he had everything he needed in order to run Hunter’s Information Central from one room alone, and then his eyes widened. “Oh no, I don’t think so,” he said.

Hermione smiled innocently. “Mimsy,” she said, making the brothers snigger when they saw Bobby take a step backwards. “Is everything ready?”

“Yes, Mistress, Mimsy thinks it be to the Mr. Bobby’s likings and ifs not, Mimsy not be happy, Mimsy work very hard.”

Dean and Sam’s sniggers grew louder and Bobber sent a glare in the direction, whilst trying to sneak out of the room and down the stairs, but before he could, Mimsy’s small hand encircled his wrist and he was gone from view.

Mimsy returned and took Hermione and the brothers to where she’d dropped Bobby off, right outside his cottage, and he didn’t look pleased as his glare met her as soon as she landed.

“You can’t hit me, I’m pregnant,” she said, placing both hands on her stomach as if to draw attention to it.

The brothers’ sniggers had turned into laughter by this point and Bobby sent his glare at them instead and they sobered immediately.

“I know you’re mad, but I don’t like that you’re alone all the time. It’s not good for your health, mental, emotional and physical. You’re not taking care of yourself and I want you around as long as possible and if that means I have to kidnap you, then I will do so. Even when we’re not here, one of the elves will be so you’ll never be alone. I had planned on moving you into the house but I thought it would be too much for you, so I had the contractors convert the storage unit into a cottage for you. You have a kitchen, living room, bathroom and bedroom. Mimsy’s already unpacked all of your clothing and your furniture, anything that’s in need of repairing will be replaced. You’ll still have your own residence, only now you’ll be closer to us and you’ll be protected. Demons are unable to find us here due to the magic surrounding the land and the demon wardings and Enochian symbols Castiel did for us.”

Bobby was scowling at her, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes refusing to look away from her.

“Just how big is this land?” Sam asked her, his eyes looking around and seeing that he wasn’t able to find an endpoint.

“Fifty acres including the woods that hide the entrance to the house, the meadow at the back of the land and the fields. There’s also a pond the contractors made bigger so the children can swim in it, they built the children a treehouse in the woods and they built them their very own playground not far from the house, too. There’s also two garages on the property which is a five minute walk from here, and it’s a ten minute walk to the house from here. You can keep your truck in one of the garages, there’s more than enough space for several cars, actually. And I’ve had a small cottage built on the other side of the property for the house-elves to reside in so it’s off-limits to everyone.”

Both Bobby and Sam were surprised by her answer.

“Just think, Bobby, you’ll have a good home-cooked meal three times a day, you don’t have to worry about being attacked by demons, you have everything you need and want with your own residence and you have full access to everything back at the house, including my magical library.” He perked up a little. “I’ve still warded the more dangerous books to ensure you don’t get hurt though, and you’ve got the Hunter’s library and the office where you can continue running Hunter’s Information Central. We all want you here and there’s no point in leaving, I’ll just have Mimsy bring you back, not that I’d have to ask it of her, she’d do it herself. She quite likes you,” she shrugged.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Missy,” Bobby grumbled.

“No, just the opposite, I’m going to make sure you have a healthy and happy life, I reckon you’ve still got another few decades in you, we can’t have you popping your clogs before you have the chance to meet your future grandchildren.”

Sam burst into laughter at the sudden look of terror that crossed Bobby’s face.

“I’d rather face a demon,” he muttered.

Hermione smiled at him sweetly, leaning into a husband with her hands resting on her stomach, feeling little Xander making his presence known, and Dean’s hand soon followed.

“We’re home,” he muttered softly.

She sighed. “We are and it’s taken two and a half years to get here.”


	98. Chapter 98

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 12

**One month later...**

“Honestly, Dean, I’m fine,” Hermione said, her eyes gliding across the selection of cakes in the window display of the bakery she stood in front of. “There’s nothing for you to worry about, you and Sam deal with the vampires and I’ll meet you back at the motel.”

“I don’t like leaving you alone,” he replied.

“But I’m not alone, I have Xander with me,” she responded, resting her hand against her large stomach, and she hummed to herself when her eyes landed on the cake of her choice. “I’m just about to head into the bakery, I’ll make sure to pick something up for you and Sam, and afterwards I’ll do a bit of shopping. I was hoping to see some of the sights but I honestly can’t be bothered. My feet are starting to ache so I won’t be out for much longer.”

“You let me know when you get back safe.”

“No, I don’t want to distract you in case you’re busy. I’ll call for Mimsy and she’ll take me back to the motel, so you know I’ll get there safe. You can call me after you’re through with the vampires, you need to be focused.”

“Fine, I’ll see you soon.”

“You will,” she said before they shared goodbyes and she snapped the phone shut, slipped it into the pocket of her jacket and stepped inside the bakery.

After purchasing her chosen cake, as well as a few for later and the brothers, she left the bakery a happy witch and slowly made her way down the street, window shopping as she ate.

It’d been a month since they’d officially moved into the house, and it was everything she could’ve dreamed of. They all settled in nicely, even Bobby had stopped complaining of being ‘abducted and held against his will’ after only a week. He spent most of the time in the library, enjoying his access to Hermione’s magical texts and running Hunter’s Information Central.

The Winchesters had spent the first week at the house, exploring their new home and enjoying the peace and quiet, knowing that there was no place safer on earth and that they had no reason to worry about being found or followed by either Crowley or other supernatural beings.

After the first couple of days of being at the house, they had a house warming party in which The entire Weasley horde, The Malfoys and The Potters had floo’d over to see their new family home for the first time. The festivities had lasted for three days, after which Hermione had grown tired of having more than thirty people being in her house at one time and she’d sent them home, most of the men being drunk, the women not caring for their complaints, and the children sad to leave and returning to their own homes. Even with magic, it had taken a full day to get her lovely new house back to rights and properly cleaned up.

Once the brothers had sobered up –since Hermione refused to supply them with any form of pain relief or Hangover Potion, as it served them right- Bobby presented them with a case of a suspected werewolf. They’d headed out the next day and once Hermione had confirmed it was a supernatural werewolf, the brothers took care of it. They were away from the house for two weeks before returning for a few days of respite, and then they’d set out once again, wanting to get as many cases closed as possible as once Hermione went into labour, they would be out of commission for a while.

Hermione was now eight months pregnant and her stomach larger than ever, and once she reached the nine month mark, they all agreed that it would mark the beginning of their hiatus. Hermione was getting more uncomfortable and more tired by the day and in a month’s time she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle travelling for cases, and with her and Dean not being able to be separated for long periods of time, they’d all agreed as a family, that it was best to stop at that point.

They were currently in Manhattan, New York, and while the brothers were searching for a nest of vampires, she was walking down the street, enjoying the sunshine and the slight breeze as it helped to keep her cool, but given that it was early September, she knew the weather was slowly transitioning into autumn and it would be colder, so she was enjoying the sunshine whilst she could.

She’d already been walking for a few hours and feeling herself tiring and her feet, back and shoulders aching, she made the decision to head back to the motel. She was walking down the street, searching for somewhere she would be able to hide so she could call for Mimsy to collect her.

She walked past an alleyway and when she heard a little crying sound, one you would hear from an animal, she stopped in her steps and turned to face the alley, seeing the ground being covered with dirt and rubbish and the large overflowing bins. She grimaced and placed both hands against her stomach. Ideally, she didn’t want to go down the alley, not wanting to catch an illness that would harm her or the baby, but when she heard the whimpering noise once more, she knew she had no choice.

She slowly looked around her, before walking forward, a disgusted look pulling at her face at the awful smells that assaulted her nose, bile rose in the back of her throat but she pushed it down. She followed the sounds until she came to the very end of the alleyway, but she looked around, not being able to see anything.

Hearing a sudden noise of an empty can hitting the floor and rattling as it rolled to a stop, Hermione jumped in surprise and had her wand in her hand before she’d even realised she’d done it. Taking a breath and forcing herself to calm down, she slowly approached the large bin, scrunching up her nose at the smell and she peeked to look behind it.

Her eyes widening at the sight of a small black heap curled up in a ball between the bin and the wall, its little form shaking and whines and cries coming from it.

“Hey, little guy,” Hermione said, drawing the attention of the little heap and the head turning to look at her, showcasing the black eyes and they looked so sad, Hermione almost started to cry. “What are you doing here?” She asked, despite knowing she wouldn’t get an answer.

She spent several minutes trying to coax the little puppy out into the open but it wouldn’t budge, and judging by the lack of a collar and the dirt covering its black fur, she guessed it to be a stray.

Making a decision, she quickly made her way back down the alleyway and to a few shops down the street where she knew there was a butchers. After purchasing some chicken and a bone, she returned to the alleyway and conjured herself a chair to sit on, knowing she was going to be waiting a while.

With the can on the floor, she transfigured it into a dog bowl and cast Cleaning Charms over it, before placing the shredded chicken into one bowl and with her wand, she filled the other with water.

Several minutes later the little puppy came out from behind the bin and Hermione remained quiet and still as he approached the bowls, sniffing at the food curiously before digging in and eating everything in front of him. When the bowls were empty of both food and water, the little pup sat down and watched her. Now that Hermione could see it, it looked more like a black Labrador than anything else and given its size, she’d say no more than three months old, and he was absolutely adorable.

She remained still and quiet and the little pup slowly approached her, sniffing at her ankles and feet curiously and much to her surprise, a sudden cry tore from the little pup and he collapsed onto her feet, the warm wet tongue of the pup licking at her leg affectionately.

She blinked, unable to understand what’d just happened and she grimaced at the attention the puppy was paying to her leg. Cautiously, she reached down with her hand and petted the dog on the head, and he lifted his head and rubbed it against her hand. The puppy stood up before jumping up at her knees, resting his paws on her and his tail wagging back and forth.

Unable to stop herself, she lifted the pup until he was on her lap, and the moment his eyes locked with hers, Hermione knew she was done for. His eyes held happiness and sadness both at the same time, and she knew she couldn’t allow him to remain on the streets, and she also knew that she was going to take the little pup home with her and keep him. The moment his gaze locked on hers, the little pup had stolen her heart. He licked her hand and rubbed himself against her, before curling up in a ball on her lap, his nose pressed against her stomach and sniffing curiously, and that’s how he fell asleep.

~000~000~000~

“You here, Sweetheart?” She heard Dean call out.

“In the bathroom,” she called back, hearing the door shut and footsteps cross the floor and the bed creak as weight was added to it.

Hermione smiled as Dean entered the room, and then she turned her eyes back to the bath where she was currently sat on a chair and bathing the little pup that she’d decided she’d be keeping. The dirt and grime had all been washed away and as Hermione washed off the rest of the soap suds, it left behind soft, shiny fur. She giggled when Lucky –that was his name, because they were both lucky to have found each other- licked her arm as she reached over to turn off the shower.

“Glinda, what are you doing?” Dean asked.

“Baking a pie,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, Dean, what does it look like I’m doing?”

She reached over and snagged the towel that she’d left on the toilet seat and she began to pat down Lucky.

“I honestly have no idea,” he said and when she looked up at him, he had a confused frown on his face and he was looking at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“I’m bathing our new addition to the family,” she said, laughing and shielding herself with the towel when Lucky shook his fur and water went everywhere.

“Sweetheart, I know you like to joke around, but this isn’t funny, you’re really starting to worry me.”

She turned her eyes back to him and saw that he really did have a worried look on his face.

“What’s not funny? I haven’t made a joke,” she frowned.

“Sammy!” Dean called, a slightly hysterical tone to his voice.

Rapid footsteps were heard before Sam came barrelling into the bathroom, almost slipping on the wet floor and he gripped onto the door frame to keep himself from falling and the door slammed against the wall loudly.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Is it the baby? Have her waters broke? It can’t have, she’s got another two months to go,” Sam said, a panicked tone to his voice and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“No, I’m fine and so is the baby. There’s nothing wrong, Dean’s just being paranoid,” Hermione responded, going back to drying off Lucky, and missing the worried glance he and Dean shared.

“What are you doing, Hermione?” Sam asked.

“Oh for Heaven’s Sake. What the bloody hell does it look like I’m doing?” She said in annoyance.

“You tell me,”

“The same thing I told Dean, I’ve just finished bathing the new addition to our family and now I’m drying him. I don’t want the bedding getting wet and smelling of wet dog.”

She dropped the wet towel to the ground before picking up another dry one and then she reached over, wrapped Lucky in it and lifted him from the bath and into her arms. She stood from the chair and pointedly ignored the brothers as she barged past them and into the room, taking a seat on the end of her bed, sitting Lucky in her lap and continuing to dry him off.

The brothers followed her out of the bathroom and stood in front of her, staring down at her with matching looks of worry.

“Have you banged your head today?” Sam asked her.

“Of course I haven’t,” she replied, giggling when Lucky licked her face.

“Hermione, you really are scaring me,” Dean said, and when she looked up at him a variety of emotions were flittering through his eyes and he had a pained look on his face.

“Why am I scaring you? I’ve only bathed and dried our new family member.”

“There’s nothing there!” Dean snapped, his fear and worry coming through in his voice.

Hermione blinked slowly, before looking down at the puppy in her lap and then back to her husband and brother-in-law.

“Of course there is, I think you’re the ones that have banged your heads. I never asked, did you find the nest of vampires?”

“Screw the case,” Dean said, taking a step towards her but he stilled instantly when he heard a growl come from out of nowhere, and he and Sam shared a worried look.

“Lucky, he’s not going to hurt me,” Hermione told her new puppy, scratching him on the head and behind his ears. “Don’t you ever growl at a member of the family, especially your daddy.”

Dean and Sam both blinked slowly, trying to process what they’d heard and what she’d just said. Their eyes swept over Hermione before landing on her lap, where there was a white towel and despite them not being able to see anything, they could clearly see that it looked as though it was wrapped around something. And then everything clicked into place. She could see something that they couldn’t.

“Hermione,” Sam said calmly, his hand going to the gun in the waistband of his jeans. “I think you should put it down and step out of the way.”

Hermione frowned, hugging her puppy to her tighter and eyeing the gun now held in his hand. “I don’t think so, if you think I’m going to let you harm an innocent puppy, then you’ve got another thing coming, Samuel Winchester!” Her voice rose high and they both winced at the sound, as well as the fact she’d narrowed her eyes on him dangerously.

“Sweetheart, do as he says and put it down,” Dean said, his own hand also reaching for his gun.

“No, I will not,” she said, lifting her head up and jutting out her chin stubbornly.

“Look, Hermione, you can see something and we can’t. What does that remind you of?” Sam said.

Hermione frowned in thought, biting her lip absentmindedly. “Hellhounds,” she answered.

“Exactly, now put it down and get out of the way.”

“No,” she said. “I know what you’re thinking, but Lucky isn’t a hellhound, he can’t be.”

“You can see it and we can’t, it’s a hellhound and it’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous, my arse,” Hermione scoffed, which trailed off into a giggle when Lucky licked her face again, apparently not getting enough attention from her. “He’s about as dangerous as a flobber worm.”

“It’s a hellhound!” Dean snapped.

“It’s a _he_ , thank you very much,” she sniffed. “And he’s not a hellhound, you can’t see them and I can, and I know what they look like. I’m telling you, he’s not a hellhound. He looks nothing like those demon dogs.”

“Then what does he look like?” Sam asked.

“Honestly, he actually looks like a three-month-old black Labrador puppy,” she answered.

With her wand she dried Lucky completely and removed the towel from him, revealing soft, clean fur, and he bounded off her lap and onto the bed, rubbing himself against it. While the brothers couldn’t see the little pup, they could see the disruption happening to the sheets and pillows.

“And he certainly doesn’t act like a hellhound. He’s too affectionate; he hasn’t stopped licking me for the last hour. He’s a stray pup, I found him in an alleyway and once I fed him, he licked my feet and fell asleep on my lap with his nose pressed against my stomach.”

“It’s a hellhound,” Dean said, not in the least bit convinced.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, before motioning for Sam to come closer. After sharing a look with Dean, he reluctantly approached the bed and stood beside Hermione, who gained the attention of the little pup and he darted across the bed and back into her lap, Hermione laughing loudly when he licked her face.

“Give me your hand,” she instructed and Sam cautiously did, his gun gripped tightly in the other and ready to fire should he have to.

Hermione held his hand to Lucky’s nose and Sam flinched when he felt his hand brush against his nose, but before he knew it, he was being licked and he heard a playful bark and Hermione laughed at the surprised look on his face. Carefully, Sam allowed his hand to follow the shape of the pup’s body, finding his back and feeling the soft fur beneath his hand, despite not being able to see it.

“Hellhounds have spikes for fur,” he said, his voice sounding surprised even to his own ears, before he looked over his shoulder at Dean. “She’s right, it has regular fur like any dog. It can’t be a hellhound.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Hermione said before she summoned her trusty beaded bag and pulled out her magical camera, where she snapped a quick shot of her new puppy and cast the spell to develop the photo. “The supernatural has no power over magic, so my magical camera should be able to capture his true form,” she explained.

Once the photo had finished developing, she smiled to herself when she saw the happy puppy bowing his back and wagging his tail playfully and she handed the photograph to Sam.

“That’s not possible,” he muttered.

“What’s not?” Dean frowned, still not looking pleased about the fact Hermione was willingly cuddling a dog from hell.

“Dean, it looks like a regular dog,” he said, stepping back from the bed and handing the photo to his brother.

Dean’s eyes scanned the photo in confusion. “This is what you see, Glinda?”

“Yes, as I said, he’s not a hellhound. He’s adorable and I’m keeping him, I don’t care what you say.”

Dean frowned before he tucked the photo into his pocket and he made for the door. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, before disappearing as he closed the door behind him.

She shared a look of confusion with Sam and he shrugged, before moving to sit beside her on the bed, feeling much better about petting the apparent non-hellhound-dog which was invisible to him, as the little pup climbed on his lap and licked at his neck.

By the time Dean returned half an hour later, Hermione had found some costume jewellery in her beaded bag and she transfigured it into a dog collar, which she secured around Lucky’s neck. The brothers couldn’t see Lucky, but they’d be able to see the collar and know he was there, preventing them from accidentally standing on him. She’d also added a little bell, so they’d be able to hear him, too.

Dean stepped into the room and much to Hermione’s and Sam’s surprise, he wasn’t alone.

“Crowley?” Sam said with narrowed eyes and looking to Dean, who held the demon trap that had been above the door in his hand.

“I summoned him, I need to make sure you’re going to be safe,” Dean said to Hermione, and not bothering to look or sound apologetic. He would never apologise for protecting her.

“Samuel, She-devil,” he greeted with a twitch to the mouth. “Well, where’s this rogue hellhound I’m going to die for letting near a pregnant Winchester witch? I don’t have all day, Hell doesn’t run itself.”

Dean glared at him and looked to Hermione.

“Lucky is not a hellhound,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You saw the photo yourself, and even Sam’s taken a liking to him.”

Dean sent a look to his traitorous brother and Sam just shrugged in response.

“He doesn’t behave like a hellhound,” Sam said in defence. 

“As funny as it is, I don’t have time to watch your little domestic argument,” Crowley said and Hermione sent him a withering look. “Where’s the little demon dog?”

She huffed before unfolding her arms and setting them down in her lap. “Lucky,” she called.

They heard thuds against the floor, a bell ringing and barking as the little pup came barrelling out of the bathroom and he ran straight to her. Hermione laughed when he tried to jump up onto the bed but it was too high so he fell off, and taking pity on the little pup, she lifted him onto the bed and he perched himself on her knee and licked her face.

Crowley was watching her with a tilted head and a curious glint in his eyes.

“What I want to know is, how can you see him when no one else can?” Crowley asked.

“I’m a witch,” she replied.

“Only Angels and demons can see hellhounds,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“I must be a special case then,” she shrugged.

“Take your demon pup away from my wife, or I’ll kill you,” Dean said, his arms crossed and his body tense.

“Well, I’m sorry to say, Darling, that’s not one of mine.”

“What?” He said dumbly.

Crowley stuck his hands into the pockets of his long overcoat and shrugged his shoulders. “You heard, Sunshine, that’s not one of mine. He was cast out.”

“What for? He’s adorable and has a lovely temperament?” Hermione frowned, holding her puppy to her chest.

“You’ve just answered your own question, Love. Not only does he not have the right temperament, his appearance is undesirable, too. He was the runt of the litter. He’s not going to serve me well or frighten anyone, so he was cast out. He’s an abomination.”

Hermione gasped in outrage. “How dare you call my puppy that!” She fumed. “Sam, hold my puppy.”

“What?” He blinked in surprise and amusement.

“Hold my puppy,” she repeated, pushing the puppy into his arms and she stood up with her hands on her hips and a terrifying, murderous look on her face. “He is not an abomination. Where’s my wand? I’m going to hex the shit out of you!”

Hermione’s eyes searched the room looking for her wand but she couldn’t find it.

“Screw it, I don’t need magic to kick your arse. That’s right, a British, heavily pregnant Winchester witch is going to kick your arse!”

She made to lunge for him but Dean was beside her instantly and although he was thoroughly amused by her reaction and Crowley’s surprise, he held her back for the sake of the baby.

She fumed at him but he ignored her as he looked to the King of Hell, silently demanding that he give his verdict. Crowley shook his head and his mouth twitched at the colourful language she was using, and Sam was having a hard time keeping it together.

“The hell-pup’s not dangerous,” he spoke. “The exact reason we cast it out.”

Dean turned his head when he heard barking and a bell ringing and he heard paws thud against the ground, and giving that he could see a collar but no animal, he realised the pup had jumped onto the ground and was heading towards Crowley.

It was quiet for a few moments before Crowley lowered his hand to touch the little pup and he quickly brought it back to his body when a loud barking was heard, followed by vicious growling and Crowley rolled his eyes and stepped back.

A slow smirk pulled at Dean’s face. “I’ve changed my mind, you can keep him,” he said to Hermione, who elbowed him in the side and broke free of his hold.

As quickly as she could, she stormed forward with a murderous look on her face and her finger pointed threateningly in Crowley’s face.

“If I ever hear you call my puppy an abomination again, I will make your death miserable. I’ll make Hell look like Heaven,” she warned.

Sam was laughing, Dean smirking and Crowley took another step back from her.

“Calm down, Spitfire,” he rolled his eyes and Dean knew that it was a mistake, as suddenly Hermione’s wand was in her hand and Crowley had disappeared from the room before he could blink.

“Coward!” Hermione called out the door, before shutting it none too gently. She leaned against the door with her wand in her hand, her arms crossed and silently fuming.

“Hermione, have you ever seen a movie called, White Chicks?” Sam asked, his laughter having finally stopped, but it was clear he was nowhere near over his amusement.

She frowned. “No, why?”

A slow smile crept onto Sam’s face and Dean wondered where he was going with his next response.

“Hold my poodle! Hold my poodle!”

Laughter bubbled out of Dean until tears fell from his eyes, until his ribs hurt and until he collapsed onto the bed, and all the while, Hermione stood with a stunned, confused look on her face.

~000~000~000~

**One week later...**

“What do you want, Witch, and why have I been summoned to this Merlin Forsaken place?”

Hermione was reclined on the bed and propped up by pillows in a motel room in Springfield, Missouri. Lucky was laid beside her, curled up in a ball and hadn’t moved at the newcomer, and she looked up from her book to see Draco Malfoy looking around the room with a grimace on his face.

“It’s good to see you, too, Draco,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, can we get this over with, I don’t want to be here when you pop,” he nodded to her stomach and she scowled at him.

“You are aware that I’m very hormonal right now, yes? And that it’s not wise to piss me off?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He smirked, before flicking his wand and the chair at the table moved over to him and he sat down. “So, oh fearless leader, why am I here and can you hurry this up, I promised Luna I’d be home early today?”

“Very well,” she replied, reaching over to the bedside table and picking up the envelope from the surface, and he leaned over and took it from her when she held it out to him.

“What is it?”

“Open it and you’ll find out,” she shrugged.

Curiously he opened the envelope and pulled out the letter inside, his eyes scanning the page and he looked to her with a confused frown on his face.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted.

She gave him a wide smile. “Congratulations, Draco, you’ve just been promoted.”

“But how? The only other position higher than mine is yours.”

Her smile remained in place and she nodded. “It is,” she agreed. “And as of tomorrow morning, you’re the new Head of the Magical Law Enforcement and Auror Department for Muggles. Well done, Head Auror Draco Malfoy.”

He stared at her blankly and speechless, and that had never before happened in her lifetime.

“But...” He trailed off.

“I’m retiring,” she told him and his eyes widened further, having never thought he’d hear those words coming from her mouth. “I’m still young and there’s plenty that can still be done with the department, but it’s now all down to you to make that happen. It’s going to be too difficult to be a mother, a wife, a Hunter, the Head Auror and to travel to England every few weeks to ensure everything is running smoothly. Something’s got to give and unfortunately, that’s my job. It won’t make much difference in my life except for the fact I’ll no longer have the security clearance and resources available to me that I once did, but I’ll manage.”

“I can’t believe you’re retiring, that you’re giving it up,” he said quietly.

She shrugged and smiled at him, resting her hands against her stomach. “It’s time and although it wasn’t an easy decision to make, I’m happy with it. I haven’t told Dean or Harry yet. The only one that knows is Kingsley and although he tried to convince me to stay, we both know the department’s going to be in good hands. You’ve done brilliantly in my absence, and since I’m on maternity leave, I don’t have to work my notice. You start tomorrow. I’m officially retired.”

~000~000~000~

**Three weeks later...**

Hermione now being nine months pregnant, was only a month away from being due to give birth and she and Dean would greet their son into the world, and neither of them could wait.

They’d returned to the house a few days ago and had officially started their hiatus period, and everything was calm and peaceful, which is why everything was disturbed when Harry stepped out of the floo and into their living room unexpectedly.

They’d just eaten dinner and the little family were gathered in the living room. Bobby perched on the armchair with one of Hermione’s magical texts in his hand, and Sam sat on the couch doing the same. Hermione was curled up against Dean on the other couch, the both of them revelling in the peace and quiet and with their hands pressed to her stomach, feeling their baby kicking and communicating with them.

They’d all startled at the sound of the floo, both brothers automatically reaching for their guns but neither of them had them on them, having put them away in the armoury seeing as they had no need for them for the time being.

“Harry,” she frowned in confusion. “What are you doing here?” She questioned, moving to stand up from the couch, but Harry held his hands up, gesturing for her to stay put and he went over to her instead.

He leaned down and hugged her before stepping back and sitting beside Sam on the couch opposite them, and after greeting the others, he turned to look at her.

“Is everything okay? Ginny? The children?”

“Everything’s fine, Hermione,” he assured her. “I’m sorry for popping by unexpectedly, but I’ve just finished my shift at The Ministry and thought it best I come to you before heading home.”

“Why?”

“I received a phone call the other day, and I’ve been meaning to tell you about it, I just haven’t had the time and then I forgot about it until I found the reminder I’d left in my office.” He reached into his robes and pulled out a small piece of parchment. “Someone said you’d given them my number.” He looked down at the paper and squinted slightly, trying to read his own terrible handwriting and Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Chloe Walker, that’s her name.”

“Chloe Walker?” Hermione muttered, a thoughtful frown on her face and she pushed herself up so she was sitting up and beside Dean, rather than leaning against him. “Chloe Walker?”

Her eyes darted across the floor distractedly until they landed on Harry, seeing him wearing black trousers, black shoes, but red socks.

Red and black? Those colours were familiar to her, but why?

“Chloe Walker?” She muttered once more before it suddenly dawned on her. “Oh My God, it’s Chloe!”


	99. Chapter 99

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 20

“I’m confused, who’s Chloe?” Sam asked before anyone else could, and frowning when he saw a distressed look cross Hermione’s face.

“We have to go,” Hermione said, gripping onto the armrest of the couch and using it to pull herself up and onto her feet.

“Slow down, Sweetheart,” Dean said, stopping her from storming off.

“Pack your things, we’re leaving, right now.”

“Hermione, who’s Chloe?” He asked, placing a hand on her stomach, it helping to calm her when the baby kicked.

She took a calming breath and cleared her thoughts. “Chloe, the cheerleader, from when I went undercover in the school.”

A grimace pulled at Sam’s face at the reminder of cheerleaders and both Harry and Bobby raised curious eyebrows at his reaction.

“The girl you befriended?” Dean said.

“Yes, that Chloe, you don’t know but when you left me alone to say goodbye to her, I gave her Harry’s number and told her that if she ever needed me she should call the number and I’d find her. Dean, if she’s calling after almost two years, it means something’s wrong. We need to go and see what it is.”

He looked down at her stomach. “Sweetheart, there’s less than a month until you’re due. We agreed it best to stop hunting for now,” he said softly.

“I don’t care,” she told him. “I made a promise to her, Dean, if she needed me I would be there for her. I don’t care how far along I am, I don’t care how uncomfortable I’ll be, or how long it’ll take, I need to go to her. She wouldn’t be contacting me if it wasn’t important. If I know she needs me and I don’t do anything about it, it’s going to put me under duress and that’s not good for me or the baby. It might even send me into early labour, which is something I want to avoid. We need to go to her, and I promise, once we know what’s wrong, we won’t take any more cases and we’ll stay home. But please, Dean. We have to go, I need to know why she needs me,” she pleaded.

He kept his gaze locked with hers before his eyes fluttered down to her stomach and he sighed in defeat, never being able to deny her anything.

“Alright, we’ll go, but at the sign of anything being wrong, you’re staying well away.”

“Of course,” she agreed, both hands resting on her stomach.

“Good,” he nodded. “Sammy, pack a bag, it seems we’re going on a trip,” he instructed.

Sam looked at Hermione just as worried as Dean had, but he nodded and left the room to pack himself the essentials, including making a stop at the armoury, after all, they didn’t know what they were walking into and it was always better to be prepared.

“We’ll take Lucky,” Hermione said.

“That demon-pup is not allowed in my car, Hermione,” Dead said.

She rolled her eyes. “It was only once.”

“He peed on the back seat!”

“I spelled it clean and if you’d have pulled over like I told you to, it wouldn’t have happened,” she said. When she heard her puppy bounding into the room, she reached down and picked him up when he jumped at her legs.

Harry looked very confused to see Hermione apparently cuddling with thin air and a collar that was floating.

“What’s going on?” He asked confused.

Bobby snorted at the look on his face. He was sure Harry was sporting the same expression he’d made himself when Hermione had explained about the invisible non-hellhound-pup, that only she could see.

“This is my puppy, Lucky. I found him last month in an alley in Manhattan,” she explained.

Harry blinked dumbly. “There’s nothing there.”

Dean snorted at him. “We’ve already had this argument,” he said. “Unfortunately, only Hermione can see him.”

“What, why?”

Hermione shrugged. “Well, Lucky was bred to be a hellhound for the King of Hell, Crowley, but he was cast out for being too kind natured and too unlike a hellhound. So technically, he’s a non-hellhound-hellhound, if that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t,” he replied and the two Hunters snorted at him.

“Doesn’t matter, all you need to know is I’ve got an invisible puppy than only I can see due to my Angel side. And thank you for letting me know about Chloe, Harry, I better get some things packed before leaving.”

He nodded, and as she walked past him, he handed her the parchment and accidentally brushed the soft fur of the invisible puppy in her arms.

“That’s strange,” he commented as she walked away.

“Welcome to my life,” Dean said, before clapping him on the shoulder as he left the room, too, and followed after his wife, not finding it difficult to catch up to her slow, waddling pace.

~000~000~000~

“Are you absolutely sure about this, Glinda?” Dean asked her as he placed their things into the trunk of the car, ready for leaving.

“Yes, I need to do this.”

“It’s going to be a long drive, you know that right? Sammy reckons it’ll take us about eighteen hours to get there, and that’s with good traffic. We’ll have to stop to get some sleep, too, and it’ll have to be at a motel. The seats aren’t good for your health, you’re struggling to sleep as it is.”

Her face softened at his concern for her. “I know, but I’ll get through it, and once we know what’s going on and I make sure she’s safe, we’ll come home and wait for our baby to be born.”

“I don’t like the thought of putting you at risk.”

“I’ll be fine, how could I not be? Between you, Sam and Lucky, who’s my personal guard dog, I’m very well protected and I know you won’t let anything happen to me or the baby. You’re a wonderful husband and an even better father.”

~000~000~000~

“We’re sure this is the right place?” Sam asked, as they all stared up at the large building they knew to house the students on campus.

“I’m sure, this is where I tracked her to, and we both know how good my tracking skills are,” she responded. “Anyway, I’ve managed to get my hands on her schedule, her last lecture ends in fifteen minutes so she’ll probably come here before doing anything else.”

“If you say so,” Dean shrugged.

They all stepped out of the car and approached the building. Hermione easily opened the door, and they stepped into the building. With her wand, she was able to direct them to the correct room which took a while as Hermione had to climb two flights of stairs as the bloody place didn’t have an elevator, and she flicked her wand to give them entry.

They stepped into the room, seeing it being rather simple and clean, with two beds on either side of the room, two desks on the back wall filled with stationery, books and laptops and two wardrobes stood at the foot of each bed and against the wall.

Hermione sat herself down on Chloe’s bed, knowing it belonged to her from the banner of her old high school that was pinned to the wall, and the brothers both took seats on the chairs at the desks, looking around curiously at the posters and photos that covered each side of the room.

They didn’t have to wait long as the door was soon opening and Chloe stepped inside, and she didn’t notice them until after she’d closed the door, flung her backpack to the ground and was in the centre of the room.

She came to a sudden stop when she saw the three Winchesters and she blinked slowly as her eyes landed on Hermione’s face. It had been nearly two years since Hermione had seen Chloe, and the only changes she could see were that her blonde hair was now cut shorter, resting just below her shoulders and her skin looked more tanned.

“Hermione?” She said quietly in surprise.

Hermione smiled and nodded. “Hello Chloe, I hear you’ve been trying to get a hold of me.”

“Oh My God! I can’t believe you’re here!” She said happily, bouncing slightly on the spot in her excitement and Hermione laughed at her.

When Dean saw that she was about to stand up, he stood from his own chair and made his way over to her, supporting her and helping her to her feet. Chloe’s smile dropped off her face and her eyes fell down to her stomach, widening in surprise.

“You’re pregnant!” She exclaimed.

“Yes, nine months along, I’ve a month left before little Xander’s due, we’re having a boy,” Hermione smiled, gently patting her stomach.

“Hermione, if I’d known I wouldn’t have called,” Chloe said, shuffling on her feet nervously.

“Well you didn’t, you did, and here I am,” Hermione shrugged. “I told you, if you needed me I would be here for you, no matter my circumstances,” she patted her stomach lightly once more. “Besides, it’s given me a chance to look around, see if this is a viable college for my future son,” Hermione joked.

Sam snorted. “Stanford’s far better, it’s got nothing on this.”

“Ooooh, that was catty,” she said, causing Dean to snort, Chloe to giggle and Sam to scowl. “Ignore him, Sweetie, it’s been a long trip. We’re supposed to be on a sabbatical until after the baby’s born, and he’s grumpy I made him pack up unexpectedly.”

“I’m really sor...”

“Don’t apologise, it’s not your fault, he’s just being a grumpy sod,” Hermione said, before waddling over to her and pulling the younger woman into a hug, feeling her relax against her.

“You remember Dean and Sam,” she said, pulling back from Chloe and she nodded to them in greeting. “Excellent, now, what can we help you with?” Hermione asked, moving to sit on the bed once more and Dean sat beside her.

Chloe went over to her desk and dug around in one of the drawers before pulling out a stack of papers.

“Of course I’m never going to forget my experience with a ghost, especially one that wanted to kill me,” she said and Hermione chuckled while the brothers snorted. “And I remember you telling me about the strange things that can happen and the cause of them usually being supernatural.” Hermione nodded for her to continue. “Well, I started UCLA last year and about a month after strange things started happening, but I just brushed it off, but when I came back after the summer, things hadn’t changed.”

“Alright, what strange things?” Dean asked her.

Chloe looked to Dean nervously and she bit her lip, so Hermione nodded in encouragement that she answer his question.

“First it was just things that could be explained, flickering lights, power cuts, sudden drops in temperature, but then other things started happening. Rumours spread around campus that a strange man was being spotted watching the sorority girls. But there’s always a Peeping Tom around here and security get rids of them. Then there were rumours that some of the students felt like they were being followed, but when they turned around there was no one there. Several girls from the cheerleading team have sworn they’d felt they were being watched in the changing rooms, but there’s no evidence, and I haven’t experienced it myself, so I wouldn’t know if it’s true or not. But in the middle of the college year, two girls went missing and they were never found. At the end of the year, two more went missing, and they were never found. And this year, one girl’s gone missing.” She looked over to the empty bed. “My roommate, Kylie. I haven’t seen or heard from her since last week, and she’s not the kind of person to skip a lecture or to not come home. I’m worried about her, and I don’t know if this is in any way supernatural or not, but I thought it best to call you just to be sure. My cousin’s due to start here next year and I want to make sure it’s safe for her.”

“Don’t worry about it, Chloe, if it’s supernatural we’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you,” she said gratefully, looking as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “Like said, I’m not sure if this is your kind of thing, but I’ve been doing some research and I found a few things that may help.”

Hermione smiled at her and gestured for Chloe to hand the papers to Sam, and once he took them, he quickly flicked through the information she’d gathered, his eyes scanning the words.

“Not bad,” he admitted, and Chloe flushed at his words. “It seems there’s been a few deaths and disappearances on campus over the years, enough to certainly suspect this being supernatural.”

“You sure Sammy?” Dean asked.

“I’ll have to do a little more digging, maybe pull up the police reports and autopsies of the bodies that were found, and we’ll have to do more research on the college itself, but I’d say this definitely falls in the category of strange and unusual,” he replied.

“Awesome,” Dean sighed before turning his eyes to Hermione.

“I’ll stay out of the field,” she promised with a nod, already knowing what it was he was going to say. “Well, we’ll head out and make a start, and I’ll let you know later on if we find anything, alright?”

Chloe nodded and smiled gratefully. Dean helped Hermione to stand and both he and Sam left the room, and before Hermione left she wrote her number down a piece of paper at the desk and then handed it to Chloe.

“That’s my number, if anything else happens, just give me a call and we’ll be here as soon as we can.”

“Thank you, for coming,” Chloe said. “And I can’t believe you’re pregnant,” she smiled, looking down at Hermione’s stomach.

Hermione smiled widely. “He’s our little miracle, we’d been trying for two years before we discovered I was pregnant,” Hermione said. “Anyway, I better go so we can make a start on the investigation.”

Hermione hugged Chloe one last time and then left the room, meeting the brothers by the staircase and they had to help her down them, taking a while for them to reach the car.

“Alright, I didn’t want to say anything in front of her and worry her, but given what she’s found so far, I’d say this is more than likely supernatural,” Sam said once they were in the car. “From what I can tell, she’s only gone back as far as ten years, but I’m sure we’ll find more deaths and disappearances if we took it back further.”

“Then we better get a move on, before someone else goes missing,” Hermione said.

~000~000~000~

“Alright, UCLA was founded May 23rd, 1919, but the first disappearance on campus wasn’t reported until February 17th, 1962. Now, in the last forty-six years, a total of twenty-six students have been reported missing, and only a quarter of those were found dead. There are no similarities between those that went missing except for them all being female and between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one. They all had different physical appearances, different extracurricular activities and were majoring in different subjects. There’s a pattern. It seems four girls go missing over a period of one year, and then it goes quiet, until it happens six to seven years later,” Sam explained, as he read off what he’d found from his laptop screen.

“So, given the longevity of this occurring on the campus, and going off what Chloe told us about the lights and temperature drop, what are we thinking? Spirit?” Hermione spoke, lounging on the bed with her back propped up by cushions, and with her feet in Dean’s lap as he massaged her aching feet.

“More than likely,” Dean agreed. “That girl attracts spirits,” he commented and Hermione kicked him in the leg, glaring at him. He just shrugged in reply, not bothering to look apologetic. “So, any idea who we may be looking for, Sammy?”

“Not yet. I’m still going through the history of the college and there’s too much to get through, it’ll probably take me a few hours,” he replied.

“Well, it can wait until the morning,” she said, scratching the head of the invisible hell-pup that was curled up in a ball by her side. “It’s almost dinner and we all need sleep, it was a long trip.”

~000~000~000~

It wasn't long after lunch the next day when Sam had finally finished reading through the history of the campus, and judging by the look on his face, she had the feeling it wasn’t good.

“Since its founding, UCLA has had almost one hundred and twenty suicides,” Sam said. Dean groaned, tipping his head back to rest against the wall he was leaning against. “Any one of these may be the one responsible, but given the time frame, we’re looking for someone that died before 1962.”

“That’s going to be a lot of records to go through,” Dean sighed.

“I know,” Sam nodded in agreement. “But we can narrow it down, Chloe said it was a man that’s been spotted on the campus. I’ll head over to the library and see if they have any articles or reports on suicides around that time.”

~000~000~000~

“I don’t think it’s Hodge,” Hermione said, putting the sheet of paper aside and her eyes moving to scan the next article.

“Why not?” Sam asked, sitting at the table and rummaging through his own pile of articles, while Dean sat on the other bed, doing the same.

“Considering it’s only women that are being targeted, it’s obviously for a reason and Hodges doesn’t fit the profile.” The brothers looked at her with identical raised eyebrows. “According to the article, there were rumours that Hodge preferred men, and that’s why he committed suicide.”

They both nodded and turned their attention back to their own stack of research, while Sam crossed the name off the list.

“It’s not Moore,” Dean said. “This says he killed himself out of grief and guilt, something to do with his parents dying in an accident and he survived. It’s got nothing to do with women.”

Sam nodded and crossed the name off the list. “Well, it’s not Richards either, his death was more accidental than suicidal,” he told them, also crossing that name off the list.

“I don’t think it’s Johnson...” Hermione trailed off, her attention being pulled when she heard her phone ringing.

She frowned, before reaching over to the bedside table to retrieve her beaded bag, apologizing to Lucky when she startled him awake. She pulled the phone from her bag, flipping it open and not recognising the number.

“Hello?” She said, before she heard Chloe’s voice come over the speaker.

“Hermione?” She sounded panicked.

Hermione put the papers that were on her lap down on the mattress beside her, swinging her feet over the bed and planting them on the floor. 

“Chloe? What’s wrong, has something happened?” She asked, noting the way both Dean and Sam looked away from their own papers and to her.

“I’m not sure, I had an early morning practice this morning, I was the last out of the showers and I felt like someone was watching me.”

“What?” Hermione whispered.

“I didn’t call you because I thought I was just being paranoid, but after lunch, I have a lecture and I went back to my dorm to get my books, and I thought I was being followed, but every time I looked behind me there wasn’t anyone there.”

Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself, bringing her other hand to smooth over her stomach. “Alright, I don’t want you to worry, so go about your day as normal and make sure to stick to crowded areas. I’ll send Dean and Sam over to check it out. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, her voice sounding a little shakey.

“And if it happens again, call me straight away.”

“I will,” she promised before the line went dead, and the brothers looked to her expectantly.

“What are we checking out?” Sam asked.

“Chloe, she said she felt like she was being watched this morning, but given what she knows she thought she was being paranoid, but she’s certain she was followed back to her dorm when she went to retrieve her books,” Hermione explained.

“If that’s the case, the spirit may have chosen her as a possible victim,” Sam commented.

“Like I said, she really is a spirit magnet,” Dean shrugged, only to be hit with a pillow Hermione had thrown across the room.

“You boys should head over to the campus and see if you can pick up on anything. I’ll stay here and go through the rest of the articles, if I find anything I’ll let you know.”

~000~000~000~

“Anything?” Hermione asked, not looking up from the papers she was still scouring through, having kept being distracted by Lucky who thought she wasn’t giving him enough attention.

“There’s definitely a presence, but that’s all we were able to pick up on,” Dean answered, closing the door behind him. “You?”

“I think I’ve just found the one we’re looking for,” she said. “Only it’s not a student and he didn’t commit suicide.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” Sam said, taking a seat at the table and looking at her expectantly.

“Charles Bedford, he was a Professor of Physics in the early fifties. He died two years before the first student went missing. He was murdered.”

“So, we’re dealing with a vengeful spirit,” Dean said. “Simple enough.”

“No, it’s not a vengeful spirit,” Hermione shook her head.

“Why’s that, Sweetheart?”

“He was murdered in his office by the father of a woman that committed suicide after she was raped. It turns out Bedford was a serial rapist and had been for years. It all came out after his murder, and more of his victims came forward since they didn’t have to be afraid of him anymore. The majority of the victims weren’t students, but there was a few that were. That’s why he targets women.”

“A violent spirit, awesome,” Dean muttered. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me he was cremated.”

“Actually, he was buried,” she shrugged. “But it doesn’t say where.”

“The Lord does have mercy,” he said and Hermione giggled at him. “This may be a lot easier than we thought. Once we find out where he’s buried, we’ll head over to his grave when it gets dark, the case is over and we can leave.”

“I want to see if I can track Chloe’s roommate before we go anywhere. If she’s dead, I won’t be able to get a read on her, but then we’ll definitely know she’s no longer out there.”

~000~000~000~

It had long since grown dark and the brothers had left the motel to head to the burial site of the professor so they could burn the bones and put an end to it. Hermione had just finished changing into her pyjamas and was readying herself bed when her phone rang.

“Hermione!”

Hermione’s attention was pulled instantly by the panic in her voice.

“I think I’m being followed,” she whispered, as if not wanting anyone to hear her.

“Where are you?” She questioned.

“I’ve just left the library and I’m on my way back to my dorm.”

“Right, Chloe, listen to me very carefully, I want you to turn around and go back to the library, there’s safety in numbers. The boys are currently dealing with things now and it shouldn’t be much longer until it’s all over. I’m on my way to you now.”

“Will you stay on the line with me?”

“Of course,” Hermione replied, flicking her wand at the clothing she’d just taken off and she magicked it back onto her body before she instructed Lucky to stay where he was and she left the motel room.

The motel was by a busy road and she’d managed to flag down a passing taxi quickly, before climbing into the back and giving him her intended destination.

“I’m at the library,” Chloe said.

“That’s good, I shouldn’t be much longer now.”

Hermione had Chloe talk to her about mundane things to keep her distracted and when the taxi arrived at the campus, she had the driver wait for her, whilst she got out the car and met Chloe at the halfway point.

“Thank God, you’re here,” Chloe rushed out, hugging Hermione tightly.

“Everything will be fine,” Hermione promised. “It may take the boys a little time to do what they doing, but it’ll all be over before you know it. For now, I’m taking you back to the motel,” she said and Chloe gripped her hand tightly as she Hermione pulled her over to the taxi.

As Chloe was about to step into the car, she froze, her eyes staring at a point in the distance. Hermione frowned and followed her gaze, immediately seeing a man staring at them with a dark look on his face. It was evident he was from a different time, given the odd clothing he wore.

Hermione pushed Chloe’s frozen form into the car and climbed in after her, and the car set off, Hermione looking behind her and out the window to see the violent spirit still watching them.

“He can’t leave campus,” she told Chloe softly, and once they were off the premises, Chloe visibly looked relieved.

~000~000~000~

They’d been at the motel for half an hour with Chloe and Hermione laying side by side on one of the beds and staring up at the ceiling in silence. Hermione had entered the room first in order to lock Lucky in the bathroom with a Silencing Charm, not wanting to frighten Chloe anymore than she already had been.

She hadn’t spoken in the last half an hour and Hermione didn’t plan on forcing her to. Chloe visibly flinched when Hermione’s phone rang.

“We’re almost finished here, so we’ll be back soon,” Dean said as a way of greeting.

“Good, Chloe called me earlier and said she was being followed. I got a taxi and picked her up, she’s at the motel with me, but I saw him, he was watching us.”

“Fuck! I’m glad you both got out safely and we’ll back soon.”

“Okay, be careful,” she said, ending the call and turning her head to look at Chloe.

“They’re nearly done now, not much longer and it’ll all be over.”

Chloe nodded her head and looked to be slightly less afraid, until she turned her head to face the other side of the room and a scream left her. She bolted upright, scrambling back against the headboard, shaking like a leaf.

Hermione startled and she struggled to sit up, but when she did, she knew why Chloe had screamed. The violent spirit was stood in the corner of the room and watching them both with a dark look on his face; promises of pain and death in his eyes.

“You said he couldn’t leave campus!” Chloe cried.

He wasn’t supposed to be able to, which meant that he’d likely attached himself to something. Just burning the body wouldn’t be enough.

“Shite!” She cursed.

Wandless and non-verbally she summoned her gun from her beaded bag, and she aimed it at the slowly advancing man and fired off several rounds. The salt pellets hit the target and bought them some time to get to safety, but how was she going to do that? She couldn’t apparate, getting a taxi would take too long, Dean and Sam weren’t there. They were stranded.

Hermione climbed off the bed as fast as she could and she grabbed her beaded bag, slipping it into her pocket, before quickly going over to the bathroom, catching Lucky before he bounded out of the room and she cast a _Silencio_ over him. Chloe was too hysterical to notice the strange way Hermione’s arms were arranged as if she were carrying something.

“Chloe!” Hermione snapped, her voice pulling the attention of the terrified younger woman. “Come here, and don’t freak out by what’s about to happen,” she said.

Chloe did as she was told and once she was beside her, the man appeared again, a furious look on his face as he quickly approached them.

“Mimsy!” Hermione called, and the little elf appeared before her, quickly reading the situation and without needing to ask, she grabbed Hermione’s hand as well as the frozen Chloe’s and they popped out of the room, landing in a graveyard a few gravestones down from where Dean and Sam were.

“Hermione, what are you doing here?” Dean asked, all but running over to her and taking in her heavily breathing form, the fact she was clearly carrying Lucky in her arms, and the shaking young woman beside her.

“It didn’t work,” she breathed out, seeing the flames a little ways down. “He appeared in our motel room. When I shot him he returned not long after. There’s an object. I had to call Mimsy to bring us to you.”

Sam had appeared beside Dean, a worried but thoughtful look on his face. “If he appeared in the motel room, the object must be something she had with her, which means he’ll probably be here soon, too.”

They all turned their eyes to Chloe, who was now looking at them all with wide eyes and tears falling down her face, their eyes trailing her form.

“Where did you get that locket?” Hermione asked, noticing the silver necklace Chloe was wearing.

“Kylie gave it to me. After she disappeared I found it in her desk with a note saying she wanted me to have it.”

“Take it off,” she instructed.

“Why?” Chloe asked, but she did remove the locket and she handed it to Hermione, who then passed it off to Sam.

He was halfway to the still burning grave when the violent spirit appeared, but before he could do anything, Sam threw the locket into the fire, flames consumed the spirit and he was dragged down underground.

“A simple salt and burn, that wasn’t so simple, but actually turned out to be simple,” Dean commented. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“Hermione, what was that thing?” Chloe asked, referring to Mimsy.

“Nothing for you to worry about, Chloe, just forget you saw her,” she told her with a small smile. “Well, as promised, it’s all over now and the campus is free of the violent spirit, there shouldn’t be any more problems now.”

“But what about Kylie?”

“I’m going to do my best to find her, but if she doesn’t return by tomorrow then it’s not good news,” Hermione answered and a sad looked crossed Chloe’s face but she nodded, likely expecting the news that she was dead. “We’ll make a start on looking for her. Do you think you can find your own way back to campus?”

“Yes,” she agreed, wiping away the tears from her cheeks as she calmed herself down. “Thank you for your help.”

Hermione smiled at her. “No problem, Chloe, it’s our job, but if you don’t mind I’d appreciated it you waited until _after_ my baby’s born to uncover a supernatural case on a college campus. You keep going the way you are and I’ll start believing you’re a beacon for spirits wanting to kill you.”

Chloe laughed at her. “I hope to never see another ghost again, two in my lifetime is plenty enough.”

“Try hundreds, Peppy,” Dean shrugged.

Hermione sent Dean an annoyed look for his nickname for her, then she turned back to Chloe. “We better go, goodbye, Chloe, and stay out of trouble. I have enough to worry about with these three,” she gestured to the brothers and then her stomach, “Without having to worry about you, too.”

Hermione gave Chloe a quick side hug, before the three Winchesters left Chloe and the graveyard, neither brother bothering to refill the hole they’d just dug up.

It took longer than usual to get to the car, but once Lucky was curled up in a ball on the back seat next to Hermione, they drove back to the motel. Hermione called for Mimsy and thanked her for her help in taking her to Dean, and then she sent her to Chloe’s dorm to retrieve a personal item belonging to her roommate.

After changing back into her pyjamas and with Kylie’s toothbrush, she sat on the bed and did her best to track the missing teen. Unfortunately, after thirty minutes, Hermione knew it was no use. She couldn’t be tracked because she was no longer alive.

Learning this, she cuddled up to Dean and fell into a fitful sleep, thinking of all the women that had been killed and their families that would never get justice.

~000~000~000~

The next day, after eating breakfast The Winchesters set off on their journey home, and it took longer than it usually would with them having to stop frequently for food and so Hermione could use the bathroom.

They’d been on the road all day and it was nearing midnight; the roads were quiet, the sky dark and the occupants of the Impala were each in their own little worlds. Dean was driving, humming along to the radio that was playing quietly in the background. Sam had fallen asleep in the passenger’s seat, his head tilted against the window and his body slumped in a way that it would hurt when he woke. And Hermione was laid on her back in the back seat, with Lucky curled up by her feet while she read a book, one hand holding the book open and the other smoothing over her stomach.

She shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position that hurt less but nothing seemed to be helping. Her lower back had been aching for hours and the baby had been especially active that day, knocking her off her feet. She couldn’t wait to get home to her own bed, but for the time being, she’d have to settle for a motel which they were half an hour out from the nearest one.

Hermione felt pressure on her bladder and she sighed, closing her book and turning her head towards the front of the car, making out Dean’s figure in the dark.

“Dean?”

“What’s up, Sweetheart?” He replied, momentarily looking over his shoulder to her, before turning his eyes back to the rood.

“I really have to pee.”

“The nearest station’s two miles out, do you think you can hold it?”

“I’m pregnant and I really have to pee, of course, I can’t hold it,” she scowled at him.

Dean sighed before nodding. “Alright, Glinda, there’s a slip road coming up in few minutes, I’ll pull off and you’ll have to go in the woods.”

She grimaced, the situation being less than ideal but they had no other option.

Knowing it would take her a little time to get ready, she put her book beside her and pushed herself until she was sitting up and planting her feet on the floor of the car. She then summoned a warm coat and slipped it on, knowing that it was fairly cold outside, giving they were now almost mid-way through October and autumn had set in.

A few minutes later the car came to a stop and Hermione climbed out of the car with the help of Dean, and she attached a lead to Lucky’s collar, so he could do his business, too, and she disappeared into the darkened woods, using her lit wand as a guide.

With a little difficulty, she was able to lift the skirt of her dress and she leaned back slightly, bracing herself against the tree behind her ready to empty her bladder, only it didn’t happen.

A crippling pain shot through Hermione and she gasped, doubling over on herself and catching herself on a second tree. Lucky appeared beside her, barking loudly and she didn’t understand why until she felt it. Her waters breaking.

“DEAN! DEAN!” Hermione screamed.

Frantic footsteps and leaves and twigs breaking under a heavyweight were heard before Dean came rushing to her.

“What is it?” He asked quickly, his eyes scanning their surroundings and his gun held in his hand.

“My waters just broke,” she whispered.

“What!”

“My waters just broke, the baby’s coming!” She said, panic and fright in her tone.

“Shit!” Dean cursed, “You have bad timing, Sweetheart. We have to get you out of here,” he said, supporting her weight and helping her to walk back towards the car, but they’d only managed a few steps when Hermione almost collapsed as another pain shot through her, making her cry out.

“I can’t do it, Dean,” she cried.

“Fuck! Cas! Cas!” He called, looking up at the sky expectantly, but his call wasn’t answered and Dean growled in annoyance. “Damn it, where the hell is he when you need him!” He spat. “SAMMY! SAMMY!” He yelled frantically, his voice carrying in the quiet of the woods.

A few moments later a car door slammed, fast footfalls were heard and Sam appeared in front of them, his gun in his hand and a worried look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked confused.

“Her waters have just broken.”

“Excuse me?” He spluttered.

“The baby’s coming!” Hermione snapped.

“Shit!” Sam cursed, putting his gun back in the waistband of his jeans and rushing to Hermione’s side.

“She can’t make it to the car and Cas isn’t answering,” Dean said, using his foot to brush the leaves and twigs away from the ground, making it as soft as possible and Sam caught on to what he was doing before they both helped Hermione to sit herself on the ground, her back leaning against a tree.

“What are we going to? The nearest hospital isn’t for miles, we’ll never make it,” Sam asked.

Dean ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his heart aching at the sight of his crying and frightened wife.

“You’ll have it to do it,” Dean said.

“I don’t think so,” Sam spluttered. “I’m not going anywhere near _there_. I’m already scarred for life after the things I’ve witnessed and heard between you, I can’t deliver my sister’s baby.”

“Well, I can’t do it!” Dean shot back. “I have no idea what to do and I don’t want to risk making the situation worse when I can’t concentrate on anything other than my worry for Hermione.”

“Boys! I’m a having a baby here!” Hermione called, drawing their attention and they both gave her apologetic looks and crouched down beside her, Dean reaching over to push her hair back from her face.

“We have to do something,” Sam said.

“I suppose I’ll have to do it,” a voice spoke up. They all turned to see the King of Hell leaning against a tree casually, with his hands in his trouser pockets.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam asked with narrowed eyes and noting the way Dean seemed to stiffen, fear flashed across his face and he gripped his gun in his hand tightly.

“Saving the day, obviously,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “That Angel of yours obviously isn’t coming, so I thought I’d step in and take his place. Neither of you knows what you’re doing.”

“And you do?”

Crowley shrugged. “I’ve may have delivered a baby or two in my time.”

“You’re not getting anywhere near her!” Dean growled, still crouched beside a crying Hermione with a murderous glare held on Crowley and a gun pointed in his direction, while Sam was still on her other side, trying to calm her, his eyes darting between Crowley and his brother.

“Dean, as much as I hate to say it, we need his help. Cas isn’t answering our calls and we don’t have time to get Hermione to a hospital. She’s going to deliver the baby here,” Sam spoke, trying to reason with his brother.

He did understand Dean’s reasons, after all, they’d all witnessed what his greatest fear was. Crowley killing everyone he loved and stealing his baby, and the situation they were in was much too close to Crowley possibly taking the baby once he was born. He wasn’t sure what would happen if Crowley went against the contract, but Sam wasn’t sure if Crowley would be too tempted to steal a child that was undoubtedly going to be born like his mother, to actually care about the consequences.

“The contract will prevent him from doing anything that goes against it,” he said, hoping for Dean to understand. Neither of them were happy about the situation, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it. “I know you’re scared for Hermione and the baby, but you need to think about what they need, and they need help.”

“He’s right Dean,” Hermione spoke, doing some strange breathing exercise to help her through the pain of contractions. “He won’t do anything, in labour or not, I’ll kill him. But please, someone just do something, it bloody hurts!”

Dean looked scared, worried and conflicted, and he turned his eyes to Crowley. “I swear, if you do anything to my wife or baby, I’ll kill you.”

The King of Hell rolled his eyes. “That threat’s getting old, but don’t worry, Love, I have no intentions of doing anything other than helping the little She-devil deliver your spawn.”

“Say that about my baby again, I dare you!” Hermione snapped, her eyes narrowed murderously. “And you’re not the one doing anything, I’m the one in labour, I’m the one in pain, not you!”

“Calm down,” he rolled his eyes.

“Say that to me again and I’ll rip your tongue from your mouth and beat you with it!” She growled and that tapered off into a cry of pain.

“I do so love your threats, Spitfire,” he chuckled before he removed his coat and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to elbows. “Right, Sunshine, get behind her and support her weight,” he instructed Dean.

Dean glared at him but he did as told, sliding himself between the tree and Hermione, allowing her to lean back against his chest and her hand automatically found his, gripping tightly. He winced but didn’t complain, knowing she was the one that was in pain and she would be delivering their baby in the middle of the woods and without pain relief, too.

“I need a blanket or towel, something to wrap the baby in, and some scissors or a knife,” Crowley said, looking to Sam pointedly.

Sam nodded in response and disappeared from their sides for a moment, returning with Hermione’s beaded bag in his hand. He dug around inside, pulling out a towel and a throw blanket he often used when in the car.

Crowley raised an eyebrow at the display but didn’t comment, as he took the towel and with a little manoeuvring, was able to slip it under Hermione so she wasn’t sat on the cold ground. Sam removed a pocket knife from his back jean pocket and handed that to Crowley.

“I need water too, preferably hot.”

Sam looked to Hermione with a slight frown on his face, silently asking if she was up to the task.

“I can do it,” she panted out, her hand fumbling for her fallen wand that was still emitting a beam of light.

“ _Lumos Solem_ ,” she muttered, a ball of light shooting from the tip of her wand and hovering above them, better lighting the area. Sam removed a bowl from her beaded bag and it took Hermione a moment to focus as another contraction hit her, but she was able to fill it with water and heat it up. “There, now do your bloody job!” She breathed out, dropping her wand to the ground and leaning back into Dean.

“You’re very bossy,” Crowley replied, tipping some of the water over his hands to wash them the best he could, before reaching for the skirt of her dress and pushing it up.

~000~000~000~

Hermione was tired, sweaty and crying, as she stared down at her son cradled in her arms and wrapped up in a blanket.

“I’m so proud of you,” Dean muttered into her ear, placing a kiss to her cheek and holding her against him gently. “I had no doubt you could do it.”

She looked up at him and smiled tiredly and he placed a kiss to her forehead, moving his eyes back to his son.

“He looks like you,” she said, spying the head of light brown hair and his green coloured eyes. Hermione got the feeling Xander would be a double of his father when he got older; she couldn’t see any of herself in him.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Crowley spoke, leaning against a tree off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Thank you,” Hermione said, turning her eyes to look at him briefly before they returned to the little bundle in her arms. “Now go away.”

“Charming,” he scoffed. “I deliver your spawn and this is the thanks I get,” he said before he disappeared from view when Hermione reached for her wand.

“Good riddance,” Dean muttered.

“Question?” Sam said. “Why didn’t you just call for Mimsy?” Sam asked with a confused frown.

Both Dean and Hermione stilled in their cooing of their baby and slowly lifted their heads, looking to Sam with glares on their faces.

“Because I was in bloody labour and giving birth to my baby, I was too busy worrying and trying not to pass out from the pain and delivering my baby to even think of such a thing,” Hermione glared at him, before turning her eyes to her husband. “Why didn’t you think of that?”

“I was too busy worrying about you and trying to keep you calm, I completely forgot about the house-elves,” he replied, and they both turned to look at Sam, who took a step back at the glares on their faces. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’ve only just thought of it,” he said sheepishly.

Hermione scowled at him before her attention was pulled back to her son cradled in her arms, and a loving smile pulled at her mouth.

“We should get you both to a hospital,” Dean said, resting his chin on her shoulder and looking down at their son, his hand coming up to pull the blanket up and around his little frame tighter to protect him from the cold. “He’s still three weeks early and I want to make sure you’re both alright.”

Hermione nodded, her eyes still on her son. “A magical hospital’s best. If we can get home, one of the house-elves will get us a healer and bring them to the house to check us both over. If it’s required, we’ll be admitted to the hospital, if not, we can stay home.”

“Mimsy,” Dean called.

The little elf appeared before them, her eyes widening comically and a loud gasp falling from her lips, her hands coming up to her mouth and she rocked on her feet as tears welled in her eyes.

“Mistress had Young Master,” she cried tears of joy and she and Dean laughed at her softly.

“Mimsy, we need to see a healer, can you take us home and fetch one from St. Helga’s please?” Hermione said, sounding tired but happy.

“Of course, Mistress,” she replied, moving closer to Hermione and Dean, placing her hands on their shoulders and looking to Sam. “Mimsy be back for Mr. Sam,” she said, before she disappeared from sight, leaving behind Sam, Lucky and the Impala.

~000~000~000~

They landed in their bedroom in their house, Hermione carefully being placed on the bed with Xander in her arms and Dean stood beside the bed.

“Mimsy get Mr. Sam and a healer,” the little elf said, before leaving once more.

Dean moved so he was perched on the bed beside Hermione and he smiled down at her lovingly, reaching over to push her hair back from her face.

“I’ve never been so in awe of you,” he muttered softly and she smiled at him, leaning her face into his touch when his fingers brushed her cheek.

“Would like you to hold your son, Mr. Winchester?” She asked him.

A dazzling smile appeared on his face and he nodded instantly. He moved closer to her and Hermione carefully put their wriggling son into his arms.

“Hey, Xander,” he mumbled quietly, softly. “I’m your daddy,” he muttered, placing a kiss to their son’s forehead. Happy tears welled up in Hermione’s eyes and spilt from the corners and fell down her cheeks.

A few minutes later, a grumpy looking healer arrived, being dragged behind an angry-looking Mimsy; Hermione guessed she’d abducted the middle-aged woman without explanation. When the healer caught sight of Hermione’s tired and dirty appearance, Dean and the baby, she put the pieces together, stopped demanding she be released and she rushed forward. If she recognised Hermione for who she was, the healer didn’t mention it and Hermione was grateful for it.

Hermione tiredly explained what had happened and it took a few minutes for the healer to coax Dean to hand over their son, but Hermione had placed a hand on his arm and nodded at him to do so. Reluctantly Dean relinquished his hold and gave Xander to the healer, who ran a series of tests over him.

Half an hour later, both Hermione and Xander were given a clean bill of health and the healer left, with promises that she wouldn’t tell anyone about Hermione or her secret baby; it seems she did know who she was after all.

Dean perched himself back on the bed, sitting beside Hermione and pulling her against his side as she held their son again.

“I’m happy you’re both alright, you gave me a scare, Glinda.”

“I have to keep you on your toes,” she replied, resting her head against his shoulder and smiling when Xander gave a little yawn.

A knock on the door drew their attention and the door opened to reveal Sam, who entered and walked over to the bed.

“We’re both completely fine,” Hermione smiled at him and a look of relief washed over his face. “Do you want to hold your nephew?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he grinned, quickly sitting on her other side and happily taking the little bundle in his arms. “He’s so tiny,” he said fondly, a smile pulling at his mouth.

“He didn’t bloody feel it,” Hermione muttered and Dean snorted at her, so she elbowed him in the side.

“Just you wait, he’s going to be kicking your ass when he gets older,” Dean said smugly.

“What’s with all this God-Forsaken noise!” They heard Bobby grouch and his footsteps thudded against the stairs above them.

“Probably fell asleep in the library again,” Sam said to Hermione and Dean, given that it was nearing three in the morning and Bobby wasn’t at his cottage.

“Those elves are driving me nuts with the rushing about they’re doing!” Bobby said gruffly, his footsteps growing closer. “What the hell’s got them so on edge?” He demanded to know, but the moment he stepped through the open door and into the room, his eyes widened and he stumbled in surprise at the sight that met him; Hermione and Dean snuggled together on the bed, and Sam beside Hermione, cradling a little bundle in his arms.

“What the hell?” He muttered, his eyes darting between them and he slowly approached them, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed, his eyes latching onto the wriggling newborn held by his Uncle.

“I went into labour on the way back,” Hermione offered. “Castiel didn’t answer our calls and Crowley turned up, delivered the baby and left when I reached for my wand after his unappreciated comment about my baby. Mimsy brought us home, got me a healer and we’re both fine,” she smiled. Bobby blinked slowly, processing what she’d said about the King of Hell delivering her baby. “So, Bobby, do you want to meet your Grandson?”

In his shocked state, he managed to nod his head and the brothers laughed at him as Sam stood and handed Xander over to Bobby, who sat on the foot of the bed, staring down at the little bundle in his arms with the softest expression any of them had ever seen. With that look, they knew he was going to be a pushover when it came to the children.

“Bobby, this is Evander Robert Winchester,” Dean said, a smile pulling at his mouth at the way Bobby spluttered.

“Surprise,” Hermione said sheepishly. They’d been purposely keeping his name a secret from Bobby, wanting it to be a surprise.

She smiled when he turned his eyes back to Xander and began muttering to him so quietly and softly, they couldn’t hear him or what he was saying to his Grandson, but to Hermione, it didn’t matter.

Dean hugged her closer to him and placed a kiss to her forehead, his eyes watching his son being held by his surrogate father.

Their family was safe.

Their family was growing.

And their family was stronger than ever.

The supernatural didn’t stand a chance against the Winchesters.


	100. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page Count: 14

**Eight years later...**

“GLINDA!”

“I’m okay,” Hermione called, reaching up to grip the backrest of the couch she’d just ducked behind, and she pulled herself up onto her feet, momentarily feeling herself go dizzy.

“Whoa,” Hermione muttered, swaying on her feet slightly. The dizzy spell quickly past and she shook her head, just in time to see the coffee table flying towards her.

Her eyes widened before she took a breath and cast a _Protego Totalum_ , the shield appearing in front of her before the table collided with her. Loud noises echoed through the room as the coffee table fell to the floor, splintering and breaking into pieces.

Her eyes scanned her surroundings, looking for her wand which she’d dropped several minutes beforehand, but she couldn’t see it. From the corner of her eye she caught the angry woman snarling at her, her fangs lengthening and venom dripping from them and onto the floor.

She lunged for Hermione who rounded to the other side of the couch, putting herself out of reach of the furious supernatural being.

With a growl, the couch was lifted from the ground and thrown at her. Hermione dropped to the floor, her hands catching her fall as the couch went straight over her head, slamming into the wall, but not before breaking the TV that had been sat on it, the screen smashing and the entire thing falling off the bracket and landing on the floor.

“HERMIONE!” Dean yelled from another room.

Hermione didn’t answer, her eyes being focused on the woman slowly approaching her with a predatory look on her face. Hermione’s breath came out in pants, her heart beating fast in her chest and adrenaline and fear sweeping through her.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you,” the woman hissed.

Hermione didn’t reply, her eyes remaining fixed on the woman and her mind going at a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to survive the situation. From the corner of her eye, she saw the sunlight reflecting off a bright surface and she felt a sigh of relief leave her.

Hermione waited for the right time and that came the moment the woman was about to pounce on her. She kicked out with her leg, catching the woman around the back of the knees and she tumbled to the ground, snarling and growling in her anger.

Hermione jumped to her feet as fast as she could, ignoring the sounds of gunshots, and she darted across the room, her hand going under the armchair and removing the item from underneath by the tip of the blade. Gripping the silver knife by the handle, with a confidence that came from over a decade of being in her line of work, she threw the knife across the room. It soared through the air and time stood still as the knife, with perfect aim, firmly lodged itself in the woman’s heart.

Venom dripped from her fangs as she snarled and hissed furiously, before her body suddenly crumbled apart and covered the floor as if she were made of stone. The only sound in the room was that of Hermione’s heavy breathing and her hunting knife hitting against the wooden floorboards.

Hermione let out a sigh and she moved to sit on the armchair, plopping herself down and settling into the cushions as she rested her hands against her stomach and tipped her head back.

Footsteps pulled her attention and she lifted her head to see her husband walking into the room, tucking his gun and hunting knife back into the pockets of his leather jacket. His clothing was a bit ruffled, but he was uninjured and as handsome as ever. Physically, he hadn’t changed much over the last decade, if only for a few laugh lines having made an appearance and the addition of a few more scars. The changes came with his behaviour and actions. He was still the same Dean Winchester that loved hunting and taking out the supernatural, but he was the biggest softy she had ever met when it came to their children. Each one of them had him wrapped around their little fingers, and he would turn the world upside down for their children, and she loved him all the more for it.

She stood from the armchair and walked over to him, he instantly took her in his arms, breathing in the comforting scent of apples and cameral, his favourite scent in the world. He pulled back from her long enough for his eyes to search her for injuries and seeing none, he sighed in relief before bringing his mouth down to hers and stealing her breath with his kiss.

She felt her back gently hitting the wall after he’d turned them around and walked her backwards, and he swooped down, picking her up so she was forced to wrap her legs around his waist to keep balance, as he carefully pressed her back into the wall. When the need for oxygen became too great, he pulled his mouth from hers, burying his head into her neck and breathing in her scent as he placed light, teasing kisses against her skin.

“You would think after a decade of being together, that my hunger for you would’ve cooled off, but in fact, it’s the exact opposite. I always want you, _always_.” He muttered, nuzzling at her skin. “Every morning I wake up, I’m so thankful that I met you, and I can’t thank you enough for changing my life and giving me a family I can be proud of, for being the woman of my dreams and the mother of my children.”

Tears welled up in Hermione’s eyes and she sniffled, causing Dean to pull back from her so he could look at her. A chuckle left him and he smiled at her, that smile that he only reserved for her.

“Sorry, hormones,” she chuckled through another sniffle.

He lifted his hand from her hip and brought it in-between them, pressing it gently against her clothed stomach, feeling the growing bump beneath his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes flashing with a variety of emotions.

Love for her. Upset and hurt that he’d put her in danger. Anger that someone had dared to attack her when she was carrying their baby; and it was obvious to anyone with eyes that she was pregnant. She might have only been four months along, but the sundress she wore displayed her growing bump and it wasn’t hard to miss. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said softly, running a hand through his hair and scratching at his scalp lightly. “You didn’t know, and neither did I. It was just a wrong time, wrong place situation. You are not to blame and we’re both absolutely fine,” she assured him.

When they’d discovered that Hermione was pregnant a couple of months ago, she’d immediately taken herself out of the field, allowing Dean and Sam to handle the dangerous side of the job while she dealt with research and support.

Dean had asked that Hermione go with him to check out the house of one of the victim’s, and it also happened to be the crime scene, but it had been clear for over a week so they weren’t expecting any trouble.

When Hermione magically opened the door and they entered the house, they’d only be there a few minutes when they realised they weren’t alone. In fact, the ones they were hunting happened to have returned to the crime scene and were hiding out in the house. They were up against vetalas, supernatural beings that fed on blood, possessed paralytic venom in their fangs and had enhanced strength. Having dealt with several over the years, they’d both known there was more than one as vetalas hunted in pairs. 

The second vetala, a man, appeared behind them, putting Hermione and Dean in the middle of two hungry, dangerous beings. Dean had taken the man and Hermione the woman, them being separated from each other, but it had only taken fifteen minutes for them to kill the vetalas and find their way back to each other.

“Okay?” She said and he slowly nodded his head. “Honestly, it wasn’t your fault and I don’t blame you,” she promised him.

His hand smoothed over her baby bump, feeling the heat of him seeping through her clothing and onto her skin.

“We’re having no more after this one,” she told him.

“But you promised me a girl,” he all but pouted.

“Then you better pray this one’s a girl.”

“It’s a boy,” he said knowingly.

“It could be a girl,” she argued.

“It’s a boy,” he told her and she sighed.

He had successfully predicted the gender of each of their children and he hadn’t been wrong yet. She didn’t know if she could handle having another boy, but she knew she would love him as she did their other children, but secretly she was wishing that Dean was wrong this time. She loved her boys, but she wanted a little girl, too.

“If you say so. Now, let’s get this place cleaned up and we can get back to the children,” she said.

“In a minute,” Dean muttered, pressing his mouth against hers and kissing the life out of her.

They’d been together over a decade and she had thought that over the years his behaviour towards her would change, not dramatically, but maybe he would calm down a bit. But he hadn’t, not even once. He was just as protective and possessive as he’d always been. He was just as caring and loving as he’d always been. And he took every opportunity possible to get her naked and make her purr.

He always wanted her and he always loved her. Even when she was ill and looked like death warmed up. Even when she was throwing up her guts, cursing like a trucker, had mood swings worse than a werewolf approaching the full moon transformation and when she was bigger than a whale. Even with her scars and stretch marks from carrying his children. He thought she was beautiful and that every scar, freckle and stretch mark added to her beauty. And because he thought she was beautiful and he told her frequently, even when she knew she was far from it, she believed him.

~000~000~000~

“I wonder how much mess they’ve made this time,” Hermione spoke as she climbed out of the car and she and Dean made their way towards their motel room hand in hand.

“We’ve been gone less than two hours, I can’t imagine it being too bad,” Dean replied.

“Then you can be the one to clean it up,” she told him and he snorted at her.

They stopped in front of the door to their room and Hermione looked up, checking that the demon trap was still in place before she pressed her wand to the door and it swung open, allowing them entrance. They stepped inside and barely had time to close the door behind them.

“MUM! DAD!” Chorus shouts filled their ears as they found themselves being surrounded and hugged around the waist and legs by their children.

“We missed you,” their eldest son spoke, little Evander who was no longer so little with him now being eight years old.

“We missed you, too, Sweetie,” Hermione said, bending to place a kiss to her son’s forehead.

“How’d it go?”

They looked up to see Bobby sat on a chair that had been dragged over from the table and to the bed, sitting at the foot of it whilst the covers were still made but looked rumpled. He had a book in his hand and his reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose, letting them know that he’d been conducting one of his lessons with the children.

“Turns out the vetalas were still there,” Hermione answered, and she saw the way his face hardened, a protective look flashed through his eyes and his gaze fell to her stomach. “I’m fine, Bobby. There’s not a single scratch, bump or bruise on me.”

“Did you kill them, Mum?” Xander asked, looking up at her excitedly. He was his father’s son alright. “Unfortunately we were forced to kill them, but you know Xander...”

“Killing is always the last option,” he replied and nodded seriously. “I know, Mum.”

“That’s my boy,” she said, running a hand through his hair and turning her eyes back to Bobby. “Well, we’re sorry for intruding on your lesson.”

“Granddad’s teaching us about shape-shifters,” Xander spoke, all but jumping on the spot in his excitement.

“Then don’t let us stop you, get back to your lesson,” Dean said, prying their youngest off his legs and giving him a gentle push in the direction of the bed.

Their children listened to them and all climbed back onto the bed, getting themselves comfortable and listening to Bobby, as he nodded to them and then pushed his glasses back up his nose and lifted the book.

“Right boys, where did we leave off?” He asked.

Xander’s hand shot in the air in his need to answer the question, much like his mother’s used to do when she was at school. “How to identify a shape-shifter,” he spoke.

“And how do we do that?” Bobby asked.

“Easy, with silver or their eyes changing colour when they’re caught on video.”

“Well done, Xander,” Bobby nodded.

Dean grinned at Hermione and she rolled her eyes but happily snuggled into her husband when he pulled her over to the other bed and they sat on the edge of the mattress, his arm around her waist and resting against her stomach while she was tucked into his side, and they silently watched their children.

Eight years after the birth of Xander, they now had four children and one on the way, and all of them were boys.

Evander Robert Winchester, or Xander as he was called, was their firstborn and at eight-years-old, he was the absolute spitting double of his father, so much so that Hermione thought it frightening. He was tall for his age and he had Dean’s green eyes and his light brown hair, and Xander had even taken to wearing it like his father, partially spiked up at the front. And much like his father, he was rarely seen without his leather jacket, ever since Dean had bought him his first one at the age of five. He didn’t only emulate Dean in appearance, but in behaviour, too. He was loud and sarcastic and surprisingly witty for his young age. 

Their second child was Chase Samuel Winchester, and he had been born in December, just over a year after Xander had been born. Hermione had fallen pregnant only a few short months after giving birth to Xander, and though both she and Dean were surprised to learn the news, they’d been beyond happy. Chase was now seven-years-old and their second eldest. Where Xander was more like his father, Chase was more like his mother. He had chocolate brown eyes and mahogany coloured hair, and thankfully he hadn’t inherited her wild curls. Chase was the quietest of their children, and he was smart much like his mother. He could always be found reading a book in the library or in the back of the Impala.

Their third child was Jacob Harry Winchester, but he preferred the nickname of Jay, which they were happy to call him. Jay had been born two years after Chase in March and coincidentally on the night of Hermione and Dean’s wedding anniversary, making him five-years-old. He was a mixture of both his mother and his father, having Dean’s green eyes and nose, but Hermione’s hair colour and mouth shape. Jay was the trouble maker and despite his young age, he was always able to find a way to get his brothers to fall for his pranks, of which were often Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products and Hermione had sent more than a few howlers to her mischievous brother over the years.

And their fourth child was Caleb John Winchester, but they called him CJ for short. CJ had been born three years after Jay in August, making him two-years-old, and until the new baby arrived, he was the youngest of the boys. CJ had Hermione’s eyes and nose, but Dean’s hair and mouth shape. Given that CJ was the youngest, his older brothers were very protective of him and they barely left him alone, which Hermione could understand, after all, they not only lived together, they not only travelled together, but they all attended classes together, too.

They had once sent Xander to a private daycare wanting to see how he would take to it. And he hadn’t liked it, at the age of only three, he’d had his first burst of accidental magic and on that day, Hermione and Dean made the decision to keep the children from attending school, and instead they would be homeschooled, which actually worked out better and the boys didn’t seem to mind that they didn’t have normal lives, after all, it _was_ normal for them.

Between the four Hunters, they’d been able to divide the teaching subjects between them to ensure the boys had as good an education as possible, until they were old enough to attend Hogwarts.

Bobby had taken on the role of teaching the children the theory behind the supernatural and being a Hunter. He spent two hours a day with the children in the library, giving the older boys research projects whilst reading to the two younger boys.

Dean had taken on the role of teaching the children the practical and weapons side of being a Hunter. The children spent two hours a day with their father, with him teaching them how to defend themselves and ensuring they were physically fit by playing sports. He’d taught the boys how to throw a punch before they’d even learned to walk, and even little CJ would be able to knock someone out with his right hook.

The younger children were kept well away from the weapons aspect, whilst Xander and Chase had started their lessons once they turned seven. Xander now being eight, had fired a gun for the first time a few weeks ago. Hermione had wanted Dean to wait until he was older, but he pointed out that the both of them had been taught to do the same at that age and she couldn’t argue with him after that. Chase not yet being eight, had been allowed to watch, but he wasn’t allowed anyway near a gun, knives, on the other hand, were a different matter, and Chase had taken after his mother in that aspect as well, and Dean couldn’t be any prouder of his children.

Given that Sam had the best muggle education of everyone, he’d taken on the role of teaching the children the muggle subjects of maths, science, English and the like. He’d taken a few courses online which helped him to put together the teaching material for the different age groups, and the children spent three hours a day with him. Depending on the weather he’d take them outside by the pond, to their treehouse or they’d sit in the library, which now had a children’s section filled with school textbooks and materials, and other books that the children could read for fun.

And that just left Hermione. Hermione had taken on the role of teaching the children magical theory, ranging from the history of magic to potions, basically anything that didn’t require the use of a wand. They spent two hours a day with her on various parts of the property, sometimes in the library, sometimes in her lab and sometimes outdoors.

Despite the children not being formally taught by qualified teachers and in an approved school and classroom, they most certainly weren’t suffering in their education and they had structure in their lives. Most children went to school eight hours a day, but her children spent nine hours of their day completing their schooling on the weekdays, and they did fours of schooling every Saturday morning, before having the rest of the weekend off. Hermione and Dean were fairly strict regarding their schooling; whether they became Hunters or not, the children needed to know the dangers of the world and how to protect themselves, with and without magic.

Hermione and Dean had no plans of forcing their children to do something they didn’t wish to do, and if they wanted to be Hunters, they’d make sure their children were safe and could protect themselves when they were no longer around to do so. And if their children wished to do something else, they had every intention of supporting them and helping them be the best they can be, to help them grow in a career of their own choice and be brilliant at it. Dean had seen the strain it had put on the relationship between Sam and his father, and he didn’t want the same thing to happen to him and his children.

Knowing her children as well as she did, it was evident what Xander planned on doing with his life. Even from the young age of six he’d told Hermione and Dean that he wanted to be Hunters like them, and Dean wouldn’t admit it, but he’d been touched by his eldest son’s decision. Chase hadn’t yet specified what he wanted to do with his life, but Hermione suspected he wouldn’t be following in the footsteps of his parents.

Chase was more studious than he was physical, he hadn’t taken an interest in the supernatural lessons the way Xander had, but he valued the knowledge of his theory lessons with Bobby and his defence lessons with his father, not only because it was Dean that was teaching him and he got to spend time with his father, but because one more level of protection wouldn’t hurt. And Jay and CJ, they were both still too young to have any idea of what they wanted to do, but they had plenty of time to decide, after all, no child of hers would be hunting until after they’d graduated Hogwarts first, which was where the children were being sent and no other option had been discussed.

Hermione and Dean both knew it was where their children would complete heir magical education, what with the entirety of their cousins now attending the school. It was overrun with Weasleys and Potters, and soon, The Winchesters would be added to the list and the school population, ghosts and professors wouldn’t know what’s hit them. Scorpius was the only cousin that hadn’t started Hogwarts yet, but he was due to start the following September, and Hugo had already graduated the year just gone.

When it came to juggling their hunting and their family life, it had been difficult in the beginning, but as the family grew and the children aged, they’d finally been able to find the right balance, ensuring the children never lived the life Dean and Sam had.

They made sure to take no more than three cases a week depending on the longevity of each case, sometimes it was only once a week. When working a case, the children would stay at the house with Bobby and the house-elves, who were more than capable of keeping them safe. If they planned on staying more than one night away from the children, they took them on the road with them and with Hermione’s new and improved Enlargement Charm, she’d made the inside of the Impala even bigger, so that the children, Bobby and Sam could all fit in the back. Sam had made a joke about the Impala now being a people carrier and Dean had never forgiven him.

If the children were travelling with them, they were kept far away from the hunting side of the job and instead they would stay in the motel room with Bobby, continuing with their schooling and with more protection wards around the room that even Hermione wouldn’t be able to break through, even if she’d been the one to cast them.

After closing the case, they would take the children for a visit of the town or city they were in, exposing them to different cultures and sights, something they’d never get to see or experience in the classroom of a school.

And that was how they found themselves in a motel room in Rockford, Illinois, with their family. The Winchesters had planned a surprise trip to Disney World and it was being kept from the children until they arrived. With neither Hermione or Dean liking to fly, they’d opted to drive, despite it meaning a several days trip just to get there and even more stops at stations, diners and motels, but they didn’t care.

Sam had caught wind of a case and seeing as they were passing through anyway, they’d agreed to check it out. And it hadn’t taken as long as they thought it would, given that they’d only arrived eight hours ago and they’d already dealt with the ones responsible. 

“Well done, Chase,”

Bobby’s voice brought Hermione’s attention back to the present and she turned her eyes to her second eldest and he was beaming a wide smile at getting the answer right to whatever question Bobby had asked.

“And if you need to kill a shape-shifter, how would you do it?”

Jay raised his hand and Bobby nodded to him. “Silver bullet or knife to the heart,” he answered.

“Well done. And with that, we’re done for the day.”

Xander and Chase looked disappointed but for different reasons, while Jay and CJ didn’t seem that bothered and they all went about their own devices. Chase picked up the children’s book from the bedside table and set to reading, Jay and CJ ran over to the table and Jay helped CJ onto the chair, before they both took a crayon and began drawing a picture on the paper in front of them, and Xander took the book from Bobby, laying down on the floor on his stomach and flicking through the book, mostly looking at the pictures. Again, much like his father, he hated reading.

“Where’s Sammy?” Dean asked, only just noticing that they were a family member down.

Speaking of Sam, much to Hermione’s sadness, he hadn’t yet found someone to settle down with. The first person he’d taken an actual interest in was a woman named, Dianna, and he’d met her when they’d been working a case in Bellevue, Washington. They'd managed a long-distance relationship for five months before Dianna called it all off.

The second woman he’d taken an interest in was Amanda, and he’d met her when they’d been working a case in Minneapolis, Minnesota. They’d also managed a long-distance relationship but for a period of a year, but when Sam refused to spend less time with his family and more time with her, after all, his nephews were important to him as were Bobby, Hermione and Dean, and when she’d given an ultimatum of his family or her, he hadn’t even thought about his choice.

The third woman he’d met had lived in Detroit, Michigan, and she’d been called Sarah. Their relationship had lasted eight months, but given the distance between them and even with Hermione’s magical help, it had been too hard to maintain a relationship and neither of them saw their relationship going anywhere, so they’d called it quits.

And the fourth and most recent relationship had been with a woman named, Lindsey, and he’d met her when they’d been working a case in Helena, Montana, and it just so happens that it was only a two hour drive from their house in Great Falls, which wasn’t a problem since Hermione had bought Sam a new car for his thirtieth birthday. They were together for a year and a half before Sam decided to come clean to Lindsey and tell her the truth about his family and job. She hadn’t taken it well and Hermione had been forced to step in and alter the woman’s memories. Sam’s mood changed afterwards and it was clear that he’d loved her and it had taken three months for him to pull himself back together and move on.

That had been nearly two years ago, and he hadn’t had a relationship since. But Hermione held out hope. Sam was only thirty-four years old and he had plenty of time to find someone and have a family if he wished to, but at the moment he seemed to be content in single life and being with his family. There was someone out there for everyone; she and Dean only proved that. When he was ready, he’d find the right one for him, and Hermione secretly thought it’d be a witch.

“He left not long before you got here,” Bobby said, taking his glasses off and slipping them into the pocket of his plaid shirt. “Jay was complaining of being hungry, and given it’s almost lunch, he went to get food.”

Dean turned his eyes to Hermione and they were alight with happiness and amusement. “He’s definitely yours, that one,” he said to her, and she rolled her eyes, but he did have a point. Jay really did have an appetite and he ate more than all of his brothers.

Hermione lowered her gaze when she felt the mattress dip beside her and Jay moved so that he perched himself on her lap, holding out a picture to her.

“This for me?” She asked her five-year-old. He nodded in response.

She turned her eyes to it, seeing it to be a picture of the entire family. There were four adults, one of which was Hermione and she had a large stomach which Hermione laughed at. Four children of different sizes stood with them, and there was a drawing of the Impala off to the side, and the house was in the background. Next to the house stood several green figures and she knew them to be the house-elves, and at the children’s feet were the many pets that roamed the house and grounds, and Ricky was flying in the sky.

Hermione and Dean found it difficult to say no to the boys, so when they’d asked for a dog, despite having Lucky the hellhound –which the children were able to see due to Hermione’s Angel side carrying over to them- who’d grown to full height and adored the children, they hadn’t been able to refuse. Now, as a result, they had a four-year-old golden retriever called Max, a two-year-old German shepherd named Cookie, a stray cat Jay had found in the woods called Holly, and a toad Chase had found in the pond which he’d named Reggie, as well as her owl, Ricky.

“It’s lovely, thank you,” she said to her son and he smiled up at her, before snuggling closer to her and he put his hand against her baby bump.

“Mummy having a baby?” He asked her.

“Yes, Mummy’s having a baby,” she replied.

“I want it to be a girl,” he said.

“Sorry to say, Buddy, it’s a boy,” Dean said.

“Ignore him,” Hermione said. “It could be a girl.”

“It’s a boy,” Dean said.

“I think it’s a girl,” Jay said and Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Winchester vote,” Hermione called, and all the children stopped what they were doing to look at her. “If you think Mummy’s having a boy, raise your hand.”

Dean raised his hand confidently and of course, Xander was quick to follow, while Chase looked thoughtful before raising his hand and CJ copied him.

“And if you think Mummy’s having a girl?”

She raised her hand, as did Jay and CJ raised his hand, too, making them laugh. The door opened and Sam stepped into the room carrying several bags, before shutting the door behind him and looking around curiously.

“What are we voting on?” Sam asked knowingly. The Winchester vote was the only fair way of making a decision when there were so many people living in one house.

“The baby, girl or boy?” Hermione said.

“Girl,” he said instantly.

Hermione turned to look at Dean. “It seems we’re tied, we’ll have to wait and see.”

“And you’ll see I’m right, I haven’t gotten one wrong yet.”

“We’ll see,” she said, before shifting Jay off her lap and walking over to see what Sam had gotten for lunch.

“I picked up a paper, there’s been some strange deaths in Brentwood, Tennessee, and we’re passing through there anyway, I thought we could check it out,” Sam said.

Hermione and Dean looked to each, before nodding in agreement.

“Alright, but last one, we’ll never get there at this rate,” she said.

“Hey, Uncle Sam!” Xander called from across the room and pulling the attention of his uncle. “Granddad taught us about shape-shifters today, it was so awesome,” he grinned.

Sam chuckled at him. “That’s great; now let’s see if you can get this excited about maths.”

Xander groaned and dropped his head forward to rest against his book. So much like his father.

“I like maths,” Chase said and Sam smiled at him.

“Good, we’re starting with addition and subtraction after lunch, then we’ll move onto science and English, and if we have time, I’ll take you to see the dinosaur exhibit at the Museum of Natural History.”

“I love dinosaurs,” Jay said, his words being muffled slightly as he’d shoved a cookie in his mouth. “They make cool noises and walk funny, like this, watch.”

He ran to the middle of the room and started doing an impression of a dinosaur with his Father, Uncle and Granddad chuckling and his brothers laughing loudly.

Hermione shook her head fondly and smiled when Dean stepped up beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side.

“It’s a boy.”

“You better hope it’s a girl, this is the last one, I don’t think I can handle any more. We already have the most children out of everyone.”

Dean smiled smugly and she elbowed him in the ribs.

~000~000~000~

**Six months later...**

“You can say it.”

“You were wrong and I was right,” Hermione said smugly, staring down at the little bundle in her husband’s arms. “Now I know how Molly felt after having all those boys,” she said and Dean snorted at her. “You’ve finally gotten your daddy’s little girl.”

His eyes traced the face his of his newborn daughter, barely even an hour old and Dean thought she was absolutely beautiful, much like her mother, of who she was the spitting double of. She had Hermione’s chocolate brown eyes, small button nose, and she had mahogany coloured hair which he would swear was curling at the tips slightly, leading him to believe she would have her mother’s riotous curls when she grew older. She was dressed in a little pink sleepsuit with the matching hat and she was wrapped in the softest blanket possible, which Hermione had charmed, monogramming her name onto the blanket, much like she’d done for their other children.

“And we’re positive on the name?” She said. “I won’t be able to change it.”

“It’s the perfect name for our perfect daughter,” he replied. He’d been staring at her for the last ten minutes and had yet to take his eyes off her.

“I think it’s time to introduce her to the family,” she commented.

Dean frowned and finally tore his gaze from his daughter and to her. “I don’t think I can let her near another man.”

“They’re her Grandfather and Uncle. You said you wouldn’t let an _unrelated_ man near her.”

“I’ve changed my mind, no man, related or not, is allowed near her.”

She rolled her eyes at him. They were at a muggle hospital in Montana, and their children, Sam and Bobby were waiting for them in the waiting room, while they’d had Mimsy send word to everyone back in England about Hermione going into labour and that they’d visit as soon as they could.

“Stop being ridiculous,” she said, before alerting a passing nurse that they were ready to see their family.

Within minutes they arrived, all staring at the pink bundle in Dean’s arms with wide eyes and big smiles, and they were crowded around as everyone tried to get a better look. Sam lifted CJ onto the end of the bed and he sat Jay on his hip, whilst Chase stood beside her and Xander stood beside Dean.

“I’ve got a sister,” Xander grinned.

“You have,” Dean agreed. “And what are to do you?”

“Knock out any boys that get too close to her,” he answered confidently, after being told from a very young age that it was his and his brothers’ job to keep boys away from any sister they might have. Both Sam and Bobby laughed and Hermione sighed.

“So, what’s my niece’s name? Don’t make me wait, I’ve been waiting years for a little Winchester Princess,” Sam asked.

Hermione and Dean smiled to each other before they looked up to the ceiling, and together they called, “Castiel!”

This time Castiel listened and he was with them within moments, finding himself being hugged tightly by the four boys as they grinned up at him.

“Uncle Cas, we haven’t seen you in ages,” Chase said.

Castile gave them a smile; an actual warm smile which had taken Hermione years to make happen.

“Sorry, boys, I’ve been very busy in Heaven,” he said and his eyes then turned to Hermione, his smile widening when he saw the pink bundle in Dean’s arms.

“Hey, Cas, come here,” Dean said, gesturing with his head that he should walk around the bed to stand beside him.

Castiel frowned in confusion before he did as Dean wished. It had been decided by Hermione and Dean that Castiel would be the first to hold their daughter, even before Sam and Bobby.

Dean stood and with practised ease, he reluctantly placed his daughter into Castiel’s arms, and although the Angel was nervous, he’d held all of the Winchester children when they were younger.

“We’d like to introduce to you your namesake.”

“Excuse me?” He said, his head tilted to the side confused, whilst both Sam and Bobby looked to each other and smiled in understanding.

“This is our daughter, Cassie Arariel Winchester,” Hermione said. “Named after our two favourite Angels.”

Hermione had never seen Castiel cry, but she thought he was very much near to doing so in that moment. Dean smiled and wrapped Hermione up in his arms, turning to look at her lovingly.

“I love pie,” he muttered, placing a gentle kiss to her mouth.

“I love pie, too,” she replied.

They both looked to the bed when they felt movement and it was to see Chase climbing on beside Hermione, whilst Jay climbed into her lap, and Xander climbed on beside Dean and CJ moved to sit in his lap.

“I love pie,” his four sons chorused together.

Dean knew he could die a very happy man. He had his beautiful wife, his four sons and his little princess. He had Sam, Bobby and Castiel. He was healthy, Hermione was healthy, his children were healthy and they were perfect, loved and safe.

“We love pie, too,” he and Hermione said, hugging their children to them.


End file.
